To Discover The Truth:Part3 In The Devided Trilogy
by Nelia
Summary: Can Sam help Jack recover from 4 months of torture on some godforsaken planet? Last Part In The Trilogy!
1. Warning

WARNING To all future readers:  
  
THIS STORY HASN'T BEEN WRITTEN BY ME, NOR DID I HAVE ANY INPUT IN THE STORY!!!  
  
I'M JUST POSTING THE STORY FOR SPYRO BECAUSE SHE IS MY FRIEND AND A WONDERFUL WRITTER!! MORE PEOPLE SHOULD READ HER WORK, SO I'M POSTING IT HERE TOO...  
  
EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS IN THE STORY WAS THOUGHT UP AND WRITTEN BY THE WONDERFUL SPYRO!!!!  
  
IF YOU WISH TO REVIEW THE STORY PLEASE REMEMBER I HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT AND ALL COMMENT SHOULD GO TO SPYRO HERSELF, EITHER MAIL HER OR LEAVE A REVIEW HERE, I'LL MAKE SURE SHE GETS IT!!!  
  
THE STORY IS A TRILOGY, SO PLEASE KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN WHEN READING, OTHERWISE IT MIGHT GET CONFUSING!!!!  
  
THIS IS PART 3: TO DISCOVER THE TRUTH.  
  
THANKS FOR UNDERSTANDING AND ENJOY THE STORY!!!  
  
SPYRO & NELIA 


	2. Prologue

"The Divided Trilogy" - By Spyro  
  
Title: The Divided Trilogy  
  
Author: Spyro  
  
E-mail: traversekingdom@hotmail.com  
  
Rating: R  
  
Content Warnings: Torture, Violence  
  
Season/Sequel Info: Season 5  
  
Category: Drama/Action  
  
Pairings: None  
  
Spoilers: Emancipation, Solitudes (Season 1) A Hundred Days (Season 3) Divide and Conquer (Season 4)  
  
Status: Complete  
  
Archive: Heliopolis & Jackfic. All others please ask first.  
  
URL:   
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything of course - everyone should know that. I'm just borrowing it all for entertainment. No money was made as you know, or I would not still be here, I'd be off in some huge house with everything I've ever wanted and a pool and a butler and.  
  
Brief Summary: Jack and Sam are held hostage on a planet where slavery is customary to its occupants because of a cruel leader named Maldo who Sam discovers is in fact a Goa'uld. When a rescue is ruled out because of new restrictions placed on the Stargate and Sam is the only one able to get home, it's three months of Hell for Jack who has become Maldo's new favourite form of entertainment.  
  
Author's Notes: This started because I had a brief idea in my head, and somehow it morphed into what it is now. No idea what happened, please don't venture there.lol. Lemme know what you think overall, no flames of course. Thanks a bunch folks. You know I love you all! Specially big thanks to my beta reader, Corine. You're a saint; I know you know it! Love you, thanks so much for all your wonderful help. 


	3. New Ground

Part 3 - To Discover The Truth  
  
Chapter 1 - New Ground  
  
"Sorry for what?" Jack asked his second in command. Sam struggled. She didn't know what to say. No, she knew what to say, that wasn't the problem. The problem was how to say it. She wasn't sure she should even say it at all.  
  
"Sorry for - " Sam stopped. She couldn't do it. Tears instantly welled under her eyes and started to trail down her cheeks. She sniffed and took a deep breath, trying to stop this sudden overload of emotion. Nothing worked; it was just so intense. Nothing made any difference. She was totally absorbed in her emotion, and even though she tried, she had no power to stop it getting the better of her. "Carter?" O'Neill queried, concern evident by his tone.  
  
Sam bit her top lip, looking down at her feet. Slowly she approached her CO, only looking up to meet his eyes when she was a few feet away from him. She struggled to find words. She wanted to say so much that she didn't know where to start.  
  
"I don't know. I'm just.I'm so sorry, Colonel," Sam finally managed to form words. She looked down and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the tears away, but it only made them worse. Made them begin to stream down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, oh I'm so sorry," Sam repeated, her emotions completely taking over.  
  
"What for?" Jack begged, utterly confused. He watched his second in command slowly raise her head to look at him. Her eyes were red, her face wet from the tears she was still crying. Jack wanted to tell her not to cry. That whatever she was sorry for was ok. That she didn't need to cry, or be sorry, or upset. He wanted to hug her, just hold her to make it ok. The thoughts alone felt wrong to him. He didn't really know why he was even feeling that way all of a sudden. Because Carter was so upset. That was why. He just didn't understand why she was crying, what she was so upset about.  
  
"I left, Sir," Sam answered, noticing her Colonel's eyes focussed on her, and only her. Concern deeply etched into his handsome face, his eyes not looking anywhere else but straight at her. Sam wanted to just fall into his arms. To have him hold her and tell her it was ok. There was nothing to be upset about. Everything was fine. He was ok, she was ok, everything was ok. She wanted to be close to him, to feel his warmth, his body, just him. She didn't know why she felt this way all of a sudden. Because she was so emotional. That was why. She was so upset. She just had no control over her emotions, suddenly. She wished she could pull back all these emotions. They were controlling her. She wasn't used to her emotions having the power. She'd always been in direct control of her feelings, why now did they suddenly run away from her and let her get this way? Get to be this emotion wreck, suddenly, and in front of her CO.  
  
"Left where?"  
  
"Left you. I just - I left. I shouldn't have gone, Colonel. I should have stayed with you, so you didn't have to go through all of that alone. I - I feel so cowardly for not being there. For just going."  
  
"I ordered you to go, Carter. It's not your fault."  
  
"I shouldn't have. I should have stayed anyway. You could have Court Martialled me as many times as you liked, now. I still shouldn't have gone."  
  
"You did what any soldier would have done, Carter. You did as you were ordered. Even if you had been there, nothing you could have done would have made anything any different. It still would have happened. Only difference being, I would have been worrying about you and what was happening to you. Nothing else would have changed."  
  
"Well, we both could have been tortured, Colonel. It's not fair that you had to go through all that on your own. I was there with you, and I just left. I know you ordered me to go, but I shouldn't have just gone like that. Four months you were there, Sir. Four months. That's - that's how long it took us to do something. Do you know how hard it was for me to sit around for Four whole months, wondering if you were still alive or not. Not knowing what was happening to you. Knowing that I'd left you there. Everyday, I prayed you'd come through the Stargate, and everyday, for four months, you didn't. You wanna know the worst part? The worst part, was knowing that I wasn't allowed to do anything about it. I wasn't allowed to go back and try to help you. No one was allowed to do anything. All we could do was sit around and hope you'd made it back alive.  
  
I hoped, with everyday that went by, that General Hammond would change his mind. He would let us - me or someone else - go through the Gate and help you. We didn't even know if you were still alive; if we'd ever see you again. And the day you came back was the day I picked to disobey General Hammond's orders. I told Daniel and Teal'c what I was going to do, but they both thought it was a bad idea. They wouldn't help me. When I got to the Control Room, Teal'c was already there. He was waiting for me, said he followed me. We were just about to dial the Gate, when General Hammond came and found us. I was down in the Gate Room already, and then the Stargate activated. I told General Hammond it might be you. Every time there wasn't a signal from an SG team, I hoped it would be you. The General was about to order the Iris closed; I could feel it through his stare, but we waited.  
  
We waited, and then you came. I was so happy, and at the same time, so worried because of how you looked. I wanted to cry, right there. Instead, I'm doing it now." Sam slowly looked away, wiping tears away from her eyes. I shouldn't have just said all of that, she thought. "Both of us being tortured wouldn't have made anything any better. I just would have had to watch you go through the same things as I did, and you would have had to watch me. That would have been worse. I couldn't have watched someone else go through those things. Or have them watch me. Don't talk about it being fair, Carter. Nothing in life is fair, sorry to be the one to give out life lessons. If life was fair, then none of this would have had to happen. But it did, and there's nothing anyone can do to change it, or make it better." "You sound like you wanted it to happen," Sam said sharply, angry with herself for saying it the moment she opened her mouth.  
  
Jack was more than a little surprised by the statement. He wasn't sure what to say in response. How to even approach a response.  
  
"Sure," he granted flatly, "I wanted to be used as a tea bag. I wanted them to laugh in my face, while they tortured me. I was tortured every day. I didn't get a choice. They pushed me so close to death that every time I woke up, I wished I hadn't. Four months, Carter. For four months, they tortured me. I never wanted to admit to anything they did to me, because it's so shameful, but you seem interested, so I'll tell you. They whipped me for so long, I felt like I had no skin left. I swallowed my own blood, and nearly choked on it, because they stabbed me with their swords so many times. They burned away what little skin I had left, for days. They tied me up and let me hang in the middle of the village for everyone to gawk at, while I nearly bled to death.  
  
All those people walked past me, and looked, but none of them did anything because they knew they'd be tortured, and probably killed, if they did. I knew they would, but I couldn't help feeling angry that they didn't do something. I wanted to die, but I was so weak; I couldn't talk. I had no strength, so I couldn't even scream. I just wanted to die. I wanted the guards to kill me. I asked them to kill me, but they wouldn't. They wouldn't kill me, so they just pushed me so close to death each time, I felt like my body was full of fire. Every single day, they pushed me closer and closer to death. They laughed in my face while I was covered in blood, slowly dying on the ground. I wanted all that to happen, though, didn't I?"  
  
Sam nearly choked on her own breath. She didn't mean to say it; she hadn't meant to say that to him. She just wished she hadn't left him behind. Left him there, to have all that happen to him. It wasn't fair; she hated herself for leaving. Tears, once again, began to stream down Sam's cheeks. She sniffed and began to sob loudly. She couldn't stop choked breaths leaving her throat painfully, while tears stained her face.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Colonel," she repeated the same sentence. "I never meant for it to sound like you wanted that to happen to you. I wish I hadn't left. I wish I'd never remembered that equipment, and I wish we'd never gone to get it back. None of this would have happened. It's my fault all this happened, Sir. I don't blame you if you hate me, I'm just so sorry."  
  
Sam unintentionally dropped her face into her hands, and leant forward, enough for her shoulder to meet her CO's chest and her to lean on him. Jack wasn't sure what to do. He hadn't meant to be so harsh, so cruel in response to what Sam had said. He just hadn't said anything like that aloud. He hadn't allowed his emotions to take over and let him say what happened to him, and be honest about it all. He felt Carter's head resting against his shoulder. Was this right? Was this something they could do? Could they be close to each other? Sam didn't care anymore. Didn't care if anything was 'the right thing to do'. She'd practiced the right thing long enough now and almost lost sight of what meant something to her. Her feelings meant something to her. While her CO had been away, she'd shut her feelings away and thrown herself into worrying about defying orders, rather than worrying solely about what was going to happen if she didn't do something. Her CO meant a lot to her, and whether it was still a friendly meaning, she wasn't sure, but it shouldn't matter. He was someone she'd been close to for some time now, and if feelings that were, "against Military regulations" had now developed; it wasn't something she could stop.  
  
Sam let her hands do the talking, as they made their way around her CO's back and rested on his wet skin. Something about the place Sam was, made her feel comfortable, even though she was still crying and leaning against her wet Colonel. She continued to sob uncontrollably while keeping the safe feeling in her mind.  
  
Jack felt Sam's hands, resting on his back, and somehow couldn't prevent his own hands sliding around her back, lightly holding her. Why was this so wrong? Why was everything about this so damned wrong for them to be doing? They were comforting each other and yet Jack felt as though he should feel guilty for it. He felt Sam move closer to him, her whole body pressed softly against his as she held herself to him. Held him to her. She wanted him to be close to her, and yet he couldn't help feeling as though he shouldn't be. Shouldn't be close to her. Shouldn't be close to anyone. Least of all while he was still soaking wet and wearing only a towel.  
  
Sam looked up and saw the uncertainty in Jack's eyes. She wiped her own eyes with her wet hands, making very little difference to her already tear streaked face. Her clothes were damp from being so close to her Colonel's wet body. Why did this all seem so wrong? Sam licked her lips nervously, and found her eyes wandering again. Why should this feel wrong? Sam subconsciously asked herself the obvious. Why should I feel guilty for something I have no control over? Feelings are something everyone has, even people in the Military, and there's no way to stop them. I'm sure officers of the Military have felt wrongly about their friends or teammates before. I'm not the first, and I won't be the last. I shouldn't have to feel as though my feelings don't matter. I shouldn't have to ignore them. I shouldn't have to pretend that I don't feel something strong for my CO. I don't want to pretend that I don't feel anything.  
  
"Colonel," Sam spoke, her voice barely louder than a whisper as she looked up to her CO's face, "I - I don't know how to approach something that shouldn't exist, and I know I might be alone in needing to approach it, but I think it's important."  
  
Jack nodded. He couldn't think what to say, when he couldn't think at all. He didn't know what she might need to approach that was so important, but whatever it was, he didn't want to upset the apple cart. If Carter needed to say it, then he wasn't going to be the one to stop her. Sam struggled to find what she wanted to say. It was such a touchy subject, something that should really be discussed delicately, not in a locker room while one party was crying and the other was wet and wearing a towel. The scene didn't really seem right for what Sam needed to discuss with her CO.  
  
A long, deathly silence fell over the room. The pair in it, looked away from one another, even though there were almost as close as they could possibly get. Occasionally they risked eye contact, but broke it quickly after. After a few long and silent minutes, they risked eye contact again, but held it. Sam lost herself in the deep, velvet brown eyes of her Colonel and forgot herself, allowing her feelings to take over. She snaked one hand up to grasp Jack's left shoulder from behind, and slowly raised her face to be level with his. Their faces but inches apart, Sam carefully drank in some air before gradually leaning her face in to Jack's.  
  
"Jack, you in here?" Daniel's voice echoed through the locker room just as Jack and Sam's lips were about to touch.  
  
They didn't bother to jump apart at the sound of their friend's voice, but Sam closed her eyes with a frown of desperation as she waited for Jackson to come into the locker room and find them. It would look far more suspicious if they were awkwardly standing apart when he entered, rather than close together, as they were now.  
  
"Jack, it's - " Daniel swallowed his words as he came inside the locker room and saw Sam and Jack, holding each other. "Oh," was all he could find in the way of a comment, regarding the picture before him. "I - err - I was told you might be here, Jack. Kayla is looking for you, so - uhh - I just thought I'd let you know."  
  
Another uncomfortable silence fell. Daniel stood close by the door of the locker room, while Jack and Sam hadn't moved since he arrived. It was an incredibly awkward scene; no one knew what to say. They all felt compelled to explain, or apologise in Daniel's case, but none of them found their voices.  
  
"I'll - uhh - I'll go," Jackson finally jumbled out the words and left. Sam sighed deeply and closed her eyes tightly again, leaving them shut this time. A single tear trickled from the corner of each of her closed eyes, as if squeezed from them. How could she have thought it would work? How could I have been so stupid? She chastised herself mentally. How could I have done this to us? It will be so awkward between us now; I can feel it. God, I still haven't let him go; I'm still holding onto my Colonel as though he belongs to me.  
  
Jack couldn't conceal a sigh as he watched Daniel leave. He looked to see Sam's reaction, as she closed her eyes and the tears slid down from them. She felt guilty; Jack could see it in her expression. It was written all over her face. He wanted to tell her, she was wrong. It wasn't her fault; she didn't need to feel bad. He hadn't stopped her. He could have if he'd wanted to, but he didn't want to and he hadn't.  
  
"I'm sorry," Sam apologised earnestly, opening her eyes and looking at Jack. His face told her not to be sorry, but she was. "I shouldn't - I shouldn't have come in here and done this. I.I don't know what else to say. I'm just - I'm sorry."  
  
"You don't need to be," Jack told her, her face still so close to his, he could feel her breath on his skin.  
  
Sam's anxiety was evident by her expression, but she tried to hide it. How could she not be sorry? She felt compelled to leave, now, but somehow her heart wouldn't let her. Don't leave now; she could feel it telling her. Don't run away from this moment. You need to resolve these feelings. They're not someone else's problem, and they're not for someone else. These feelings are for this man, the one you can scarcely get any closer to at this very moment. He's right in front of you, talk to him!  
  
"No," Carter said aloud.  
  
"What?" O'Neill queried.  
  
"No.I do need to be sorry," Sam quickly replied, sounding sharp but not meaning to.  
  
"I'm as much to blame as you are, Carter," Jack admitted.  
  
Sam slowly retracted her hands from her Colonel's body and backed away from him. "I should go now," she said hurriedly and left without delay.  
  
"Sure," Jack sighed, finally getting the chance to dry himself and get dressed.  
  
@  
  
At Kayla O'Shaunessy's guest quarters, Jack knocked lightly on the door. "Come in," he heard quietly from the inside of the room, and opened the door.  
  
Kayla was sitting on her bed, legs crossed, with papers spread all around her. Her ash blonde hair was out of its customary bun, falling loosely around her face. She was dressed casually, in a pair of tailored black pants and a pale beige, long sleeved blouse. A black jacket was resting around her shoulders. As Jack entered the room, Kayla looked up from her strewn papers and smiled, showing her dazzling white teeth. "Colonel," she acknowledged warmly, beginning to gather her papers in a messy bundle. "Come in, come in," she said, leisurely waving Jack in with one hand.  
  
"Carter and Daniel said you were looking for me," Jack stated nonchalantly, still distracted by the locker room incident. Kayla nodded, dropping the bundle of papers into her brief case. "Yes, indeed," she agreed cheerfully, the sound of her Irish accent making the statement sound like a greeting. "Sit down, Colonel. There are a few things I'd like to discuss," she continued on a more serious note.  
  
Noting the change in her tone, Jack nodded, and sat down on the chair Kayla offered. "Sounds serious," he said.  
  
"No, not really," Kayla responded, shaking her head. "Basically, I wanted to talk to you. Not as a doctor, not as a psychologist, and not as a hypnotist, or anything else. I just wanted to be there to listen to anything you'd care to talk about. Is there anything you want to talk about? Remember, this is still strictly confidential. Whatever you say to me, stays with me, but now it stays with me as a person, not as a psychologist."  
  
Jack took in Kayla's words. Everything would stay with her, as a person, not a psychologist. What did that mean? Whatever he said, she wouldn't consider when she was thinking as a psychologist? No matter what she said about his words staying with her, she was still a psychologist, and always would be. She would be listening to him as a psychologist, and she was asking him as a psychologist, with the pretense of asking as a person. A friend, in a way.  
  
"No," Jack replied, "there's nothing I want to talk about."  
  
"Are you sure?" Kayla pursued. "I know you probably think I'm only doing this as a charade to try and get information out of you by saying I'm asking as a friend. You think that, don't you?"  
  
"Yes," Jack answered honestly.  
  
"Yes, everyone does. I know everyone thinks it's the oldest trick in the book. Pretending to care and asking for someone to be honest with you, then using the information. You've probably had other doctors do that to you before, I bet. Janet would be one of the few who hasn't, though. Am I right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You see. Janet has used the good old 'I'm asking as a friend', speech before, and you trusted her. Janet is one of my best friends. We learnt what we know, practically side-by-side. I work in much the same way she does. When I say I am asking as a friend, or as a person rather than a doctor, I mean it." Kayla smiled and nodded in reply to Jack's unspoken doubt. "You trust me a bit more, now?"  
  
"I guess," Jack replied warily. "But there's still nothing I want to talk about." Kayla nodded reasonably.  
  
"Ok then," she agreed, "that's fine. You don't have to. But, please remember, if you ever feel you'd like to talk to someone, I'm always available. That offer has a lifetime guarantee. Ok?"  
  
"Yeah, ok." Kayla watched Jack walk to the door, before she stopped him with his name.  
  
"Jack," she said.  
  
O'Neill stopped, without turning fully; he looked over his shoulder to see Kayla standing by his side. Her emerald green eyes seemed to gaze through him as she curved her lips to a smile. Jack felt as though Kayla could see right inside his mind.  
  
"You're a strong man, Jack," Kayla told him, "don't let this awful thing change you." Jack took Kayla's words and left silently.  
  
Kayla watched the Colonel leave. She wondered if he really didn't have anything to talk about. He probably had a lot of things he needed to talk about, but didn't really want to. He had said there was nothing he wanted to talk about, not that there was nothing he needed to talk about. Kayla guessed there were a lot of things he needed to talk about. It was very likely; the only reason he didn't want to talk about the things was because of how they made him feel. He probably hated remembering what had happened to him. Kayla could partially relate to that feeling, but on Jack's scale, she decided it was probably much worse. 


	4. Beneath The Surface

Part 2 - Beneath the Surface  
  
Jack lay awake that evening, in his quarters for the first time in what seemed like forever to him.  
  
//'Lie awake at night, but dream  
  
Of the places you once were  
Haunting you night and day  
While you try not to remember  
And in the darkness, still  
A hope to once you held  
Your home and friends are there  
To lead you through this Hell'//  
  
It was refreshing, to finally be out of the Infirmary, free from interruptions, able to sleep in the quiet of his own quarters. Yet, at the same time, it was incredibly lonely. Being alone was something Jack had gotten used to on P4C 237 and even long before that, but now, alone didn't seem as welcoming as the thought of it had before. The solitude he'd sought while the bustling Infirmary surrounded him was essentially to be rid of prying eyes. Now they were gone, there was nothing. He had gone from one extreme to the other, and it was a somewhat radical change. Jack sighed. He almost couldn't stand being alone; there was nothing to distract him from his memories. They flashed by him, the blackness of his quarters making the memories feel like lightning on a stormy night. Only this lightning wasn't just flashing by Jack, it was striking him.  
  
***  
  
The searing flesh sent a repugnant, unbearable stench through the room as Lopbell went to fire up another hot poker. Shackled up like a convict, Jack breathed deep to try and overcome the literally burning pain on the last place the poker had met his chest. He didn't need to look to know there was blood flowing quite freely over his back, where Lopbell had begun the torture, over two hours before. Jack's skin had barely had a week and a half to heal from the whipping, before it was burned off again by this new form of torture.  
  
The poker alone, crackling within the fire, sent chills through Jack's body, if it were possible. Red, roaring pain, charged like a bull up and down his veins, as though his blood was burning within him. Sweltering from the fire and the pain, his face was covered in perspiration and he could feel it trickling down his neck and back, along with his blood. Lopbell brought back the newly heated poker, and held it level with O'Neill's right shoulder.  
  
"Where did the other one go?" the king's first prime demanded flatly for the millionth time.  
  
Jack struggled, but raised his head to see Lopbell's unattractive face. "How many times," he began, his voice trembling, "do I have to tell you.that I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
Lopbell cocked his head and smiled. He enjoyed every minute of making this man suffer. Some might say sadistic, but he chose to look at it as a just punishment someone had to be the enforcer of and if that person was him, then why shouldn't he enjoy every moment of it?  
  
Lopbell grabbed the poker's handle with two hands, and thrust it forward, hitting Jack's shoulder viciously, pushing his whole body back at the shock of the contact. His own voice echoed through his head as he screamed in horrific pain as the burning hot poker seared away his flesh and made the blood-flow begin from another wound.  
  
***  
  
The shocking sound of his own scream in his head made Jack wake up very suddenly. He shot bolt upright in his bed, noticing that his face was wet with a cold sweat; his breathing was very fast and erratic, along with his heart. He took a few deep breaths, trying to slow his accelerated heartbeat. Then there was a small knock on his door. "Colonel, are you in there?" It was Carter.  
  
Jack shook his head, knowing she couldn't see. He didn't feel up to talking to anyone right now, least of all the person outside his door. Don't say anything, don't say anything, he told himself mentally, but he couldn't do it. He couldn't pretend to not be in his quarters. He couldn't lie. "Colonel, it's Major Carter. Can I talk to you, please?" Sam persisted, hoping she wasn't just talking to the door.  
  
Jack didn't bother to say anything in reply, but got off his bed and opened the door, to see Sam standing in front of him. He noticed her taking a deep breath, as if preparing herself for what she had to say. "Can I come in, Sir?" Sam asked, keeping the formality noticeable. She watched her CO step aside and flick the light switch to create some light within the dark room as she entered. She sat down when silently offered a seat and tried to find the right words to begin with.  
  
"Colonel, I want to apologise again, for today," Sam said and waited for her Colonel's input. He sat on his bed, looking at his hands, not saying a word. Is he listening to me? There's something wrong. "Colonel? Are you all right?"  
  
Jack lifted his eyes and saw the concern written all over Sam's face. Looking away, Jack answered: "Yeah."  
  
"I know I've already apologised, Sir, but I thought it was necessary to come here and say it again. I feel as though I've crossed a line I shouldn't have been anywhere near. I hope that hasn't destroyed our friendship, Colonel, because that would be awful." Sam watched the man sitting before her. His eyes were focussed on his hands. He didn't look up at her at all, even after nearly five minutes of silence. This isn't right, Sam decided, something's definitely wrong. "Colonel, are you sure you're ok? You don't seem like yourself."  
  
Jack slowly looked up, this time raising his head with his eyes. His face answered Sam's question, but he didn't speak. Somehow, he couldn't. The shocking memories, still in his mind, rendered him unwilling to communicate. Just the memories made him feel weak. Made him feel insecure. "What is it, Sir?" Sam begged. She desperately wanted to help, but didn't know how.  
  
"I can't, Carter," Jack answered. "I can't."  
  
"You can't what? What is it? Please, let me help, Jack," Sam used her CO's name apprehensively, but felt she needed to, so she could properly convey her desire to help. The use of his name accentuated her need to help him in any way possible.  
  
"You can't help," Jack said honestly. "You can't."  
  
"Can I try? Will you let me try?"  
  
//'Cry out to those who listen  
They are the ones who care  
Their help has long been waiting  
  
The many crosses that you bare  
  
Hold yourself together  
Hardship lasts long years  
They will be there to witness  
Though you will cry no tears'//  
  
"Please don't, Sam."  
  
"Don't what? Don't care? Don't want to help? I can't do that. I want to help you."  
  
"Don't. Just - just go, please."  
  
Sam sighed, chewing her bottom lip to stop herself saying things she would only regret later. Don't be an idiot, Sam. Don't stuff things up. Just go and leave him alone. If he doesn't want to talk about things, then he doesn't have to. Just leave him alone. Alone wouldn't help him, Sam knew that, but her conscience kept telling her to respect his wishes and leave him alone. Sam wanted to stamp her foot; her own thoughts made her so mad! But she respected the wishes of her Colonel and left his quarters, closing the door behind her.  
  
Jack tried to knock sense into himself, but it didn't work. The images in his mind were going to haunt him for a long time, he knew that, but he also knew he couldn't let them take so much control of him. The memories, forever locked in his mind, would take time for him to get used to. He knew the healing process was a long one - hell, he'd still barely gotten over Charlie's death - but he needed to control this. He still wished sometimes that he was dead, but he wasn't. He was alive, and he needed to deal with his memories.  
  
Jack's memories still haunted him, even now. Memories from years past, not just the months he spent on P4C 237. Those particular memories were still fresh in his mind, reminding him how painful the experience was and how scarred he was from it. Not only physically, but mentally scarred. The kind of scars that never faded.  
  
That night didn't involve any sleeping for Jack, but the next day couldn't have come quicker.  
  
@  
  
The next morning, Kayla requested another session with Jack, only this time not involving any kind of hypnotism. Initially, Jack was uncomfortable with the idea; it didn't sound too inviting, having to sit down and talk about his problems without there being some form of a barrier between him and his memories.  
  
Kayla explained that, this time, it would only be the two of them. If Jack was comfortable with Janet or Sam being there - or anyone else for that matter - that was fine too, but otherwise, it was just patient and doctor. Kayla also explained that if, at any time, Jack wanted to stop, or take a break, that was completely his choice. She would not interfere, or stop him. Basically, the whole thing was on Jack's terms, which had some form of appeal, but not quite enough to get him interested. The whole idea seemed a bit dicey to him; he wasn't overly keen on any of it.  
  
In spite of his general feelings of ambiguity towards this new idea, Jack overcame his initial reactions and agreed to try it out. For the first session, he preferred it to be just him and Kayla, rather than having onlookers. They made it harder for him to talk, knowing they were there listening, shocked at what they heard. Kayla was probably just as shocked by what she heard, but being a psychologist, she maintained a collected, unaffected appearance, making it easier for Jack to talk without discomfort.  
  
"Ok, Colonel, I'd like to tell you some of the things we're going to do today," Kayla said, keeping her voice soft and calming. Her voice was an important factor; the key to how much Jack chose to tell her. If she sounded threatening in any way, it would create unease and make the whole process almost impossible. "First of all, as I mentioned, if at any time you wish to stop, or take a break, or anything at all, you're in control. If you want to stop, then by all means, say so and we will. Also, I will be setting a scene for you, before you begin. Don't be threatened by that, it's only a brief thing, basically to get you started, rather than just saying, 'ok then, start talking'. Well then, along with all the other things I told you earlier, are you happy to begin?"  
  
Still more than just a little apprehensive, Jack nodded. "Yeah, ok," he agreed.  
  
"Ok, please close you eyes to being with," Kayla smiled briefly before shifting her chair closer to Jack. He closed his eyes reluctantly. He didn't like not being able to see what was around him.  
  
"Imagine you are inside that little room you have mentioned before. Describe it for me, as though you're there."  
  
A perfect, clear image of the torture chamber slowly materialized in Jack's mind, as though he were back there again. Briefly, he wondered if he was. Maybe all this time he'd thought he was back at the SGC, he was really still on P4C 237. He chased the irrelevant thoughts away from his mind; he didn't need any distractions. "It's small and dark," Jack recalled vividly. "There are two windows. They're both always covered with some kind of cloth, that's why it's so dark. The walls are all the same, but it's hard to tell what the room itself is made from. It looks like stone. The ground is dirt and rocks - uncomfortable. It's always cold, outside the room and inside. It's a really cold planet all the time, that's what I was told."  
  
"So you had contact with some people then?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Who were they?"  
  
"Only one other person. Azyalae. She was the doctor that treated me. She treats all the injured people in her village. She stayed up all night."  
  
"When?"  
  
"When I was really bad. She stayed awake, waiting for me to wake up."  
  
"When were you with her? Where was she stationed so that she wasn't found?"  
  
"She was in a barn. She had friends who worked in closely with the king. He knew there was a doctor around, somewhere, but whenever he ordered a search to find her, Azyalae's friends would let her know and she'd move until the search was over. She'll probably never be found."  
  
"How long were you with her?"  
  
"Sometimes a few days, sometimes only a few hours."  
  
"Who came to get you after your time was up?"  
  
"The king's guards. They all knew Azyalae, apart from the ones that - the ones who - the ones I saw everyday. The guards would come and take me back to the chamber."  
  
"The guards you saw everyday. They were the ones who followed this king?"  
  
"They believed in him. They thought he was the best king the planet had ever seen."  
  
"Did everyone believe in this man?" "Not everyone. The slaves, the women who worked endless days in the fields - they didn't. Only the ones who got to do the fun jobs liked him."  
  
"Fun jobs? What were they? Were there many of those jobs?"  
  
"None that I could see."  
  
"What were they?"  
  
"Torture."  
  
"That was considered fun?"  
  
"By the ones who did it, yes."  
  
"How?"  
  
"How do you think?"  
  
Kayla sighed. She had gone a bit too far asking that so bluntly, but it was important for Jack to actually speak about what happened to him, hearing his own words. He needed to talk about his surroundings, and the people who had tortured him. As much as he would hate it, he needed to do it. "I'm sorry, Colonel," Kayla said, "but if this is going to help you at all, you really do need to answer the questions I ask you. Unfortunately, that doesn't include answering them with another question, though. I know I said you can stop this at any time, and you still can, but you are doing very well."  
  
Jack nodded. He knew he didn't need to be so sharp in responding, but the question seemed unimportant, as well as just plain dumb. When he thought about it clearly, he found that the question probably did have some relevance; he just couldn't see it when it was asked. "Sorry," he apologised earnestly.  
  
"It's all right," Kayla smiled. "Close your eyes again, and we shall pretend to ask that question for the first time, again."  
  
Jack did as he was asked and waited for Kayla to repeat the question. "You were telling me how it was obvious the people torturing you were having fun."  
  
"By their faces."  
  
"Their faces. What was it about their faces that told you they were having fun?"  
  
"They smiled. Laughed. They laughed in my face while they beat me."  
  
"Why do you think they did that?"  
  
"To make me angry."  
  
"Did it make you angry?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
At this, Jack paused. He almost didn't want to answer. "Colonel? Why not?" Kayla pursued a response. It seemed a simple enough question on brief inspection. However, it was beneath the surface that the true pain was buried.  
  
Jack swallowed. "Because - because I was too weak to be angry."  
  
@  
  
"Kayla?" Janet said as she peeked her head around the door, left slightly ajar.  
  
"Janet," Kayla replied, smiling wearily, "come in."  
  
"How did it go? The new approach with Colonel O'Neill?" Janet asked as she entered the room, noticing how tired her friend looked.  
  
"All right," Kayla said dejectedly.  
  
"You don't sound convinced. Did something go wrong?"  
  
"No, no. Nothing like that."  
  
Janet sat down on the bed, next to her friend. "Then what's up? Did something happen?" she asked. Her friend's quiet, disconsolate mood was a very noticeable thing when her usual demeanour was bright and happy.  
  
"Not really," Kayla sighed, "and that's the problem."  
  
"You might have to elaborate for me a little bit there."  
  
"The idea of this new approach for was Colonel O'Neill to explore better ways of releasing his inner thoughts and feelings. Unfortunately, I still don't think he is open enough to different ideas. He is still trapping his feelings away, keeping them hidden. His defences are well structured though, I must say that."  
  
"So what did you actually talk about? I know you can't tell me directly, but just basically?"  
  
"I asked questions and he answered them. Granted, he did answer them all better than just a simple yes/no or maybe, but he left it fairly simple. He didn't go into detail, and he didn't offer information without being asked a question. I decided this way was better for him, now, so that he could open up at his own pace. He could just talk about something, without being under hypnosis or anything else. I hoped that would happen, but it didn't."  
  
"You're disappointed in yourself, aren't you?" Janet stated, rather than asked; she knew her friend well. Even though they'd not seen each other for so long, neither of them had changed that much.  
  
"Oh, Janet, you know me too well," Kayla smiled. "Yes, I suppose I am. I've treated a lot of people who are shut away. People who've closed themselves off. This man is closed. He's closed himself away - taken himself away and put a new person there for us to see. I know I don't know him well, but I know this isn't the person he used to be.  
  
This horrible thing - he's let it change him. He's closed off his memory, or at least he's trying to. I know none of us can possibly imagine what it must have been like, and there is no way I'd try and pretend I could, but I do know that people have recovered before. People have been subjected to phenomenal amounts of pain and suffering, but still managed to pull their lives back. People weaker than Colonel O'Neill have done that. Of course, some people - some strong people - have allowed themselves to lose. They've not had the mental strength to cope with the recurring nightmares or the endless memories.  
  
I know it's a hard thing to understand. It's hard to understand something you've never been through yourself, believe me, I've tried. I don't now, and I never will, pretend to know what it would be like.  
  
But, as a psychologist, I have to try to comprehend the enormity of the situation. In doing that, I need for my patient to learn to trust me - it's the only way it will work. For me to do my job and be of any help at all, my patients need to trust me. Once that trust is established, I also try to gain their respect, and possibly become their friend to some degree. Then, the entire job becomes a whole lot easier for me and my patient. If they are ok talking to me, they will slowly allow their pain to be released, and then the process is truly valuable. So far, with Colonel O'Neill, I think I've gained his trust to a point, his respect seemed to come without question, but that's all. I don't think I will ever be close to being his friend, and I'm not so sure he will be comfortable opening up to me any time soon, either. I'm feeling very gloomy at the moment, perhaps I'm not the best person to be around."  
  
"I don't think I've ever seen you this troubled before," Janet said concernedly. "Is there anything I can do?"  
  
"No, I'm afraid not," Kayla sighed again. This was really beginning to get to her in a way she'd never experienced before.  
  
"Well, if it's any consolation, I think you're doing your best, and that's all you can do. Don't stress too much, Kayla. Colonel O'Neill has made me wonder if I'm doing the right thing sometimes too, and I'm usually wrong when I do. He doesn't mean to, he probably thinks you're a really nice person. I'm sure it's nothing personal. He's a very solitary person at times. Give him time, he'll come around." Kayla smiled half-heartedly as Janet stood up.  
  
"Thanks for listening, Janet," she said. "I know I was just venting, but it's nice to have someone there to listen sometimes."  
  
"No problem, you know I'll always listen to you. That's what friends are for, huh?" Janet smiled, nudging her friend's shoulder before she left.  
  
"Yeah," Kayla murmured after Janet was gone, "that's what friends are for." 


	5. Beast Of Burden

Part 3 - Beast of Burden  
  
The next day, Jack returned to Kayla's room to have another session with her. He wasn't sure his initial thoughts about this new approach were far from wrong, but he would give it another try before completely giving up on the idea. Kayla was sitting in the darkened room when Jack arrived. The doctor smiled as the Colonel closed the door behind him. "Good afternoon," Kayla greeted her patient cheerfully. Her spirits had lifted slightly from the previous day, but doubt was still faint in her mind.  
  
Jack was feeling uncertainty all over again as he sat down without returning a greeting of any kind. "Are you happy to be here?" Kayla asked, as a matter of interest.  
  
"Not particularly, no," Jack admitted. "I'd probably rather be anywhere but here, no offence, but it doesn't matter."  
  
"On the contrary, it does matter," Kayla said, "it's no good you being here if you don't feel it's going to be any benefit to you. My job is made a whole lot harder when you are not even willing to think this could help."  
  
"It's not that I don't think it could help," Jack offered, "it's just . well I don't really know. I don't think anything will help."  
  
"I can understand why you might think that. It makes sense, but you need to erase that doubt. Hopefully, this will help to do that first, and then it will start to help generally. You have to believe it will be of some benefit, even if only small." Jack knew Kayla was trying to help, but he was sick and tired of being lectured by everyone around him about what was supposedly going to 'help'. "Can we just start?" he asked.  
  
Kayla nodded. She guessed that he was getting a lot of lectures lately and hers wouldn't be any help. "Of course," she agreed. "Close your eyes once again and imagine that you are waiting. You are inside that small room, waiting for someone to open the door. Just keep that image in your mind for a few minutes and talk when you're ready." Kayla hoped with this choice of situation, Colonel O'Neill would have to use his own memories to lead on to something that happened to him. She wasn't going to ask him questions this time. This time it was up to him to talk about his experiences on P4C 237.  
  
Jack saw the image of the torture chamber before his eyes vividly, once again. It made him shudder just to remember that horrible room, but he kept focus. It was dark and then unexpectedly, he saw himself in the room. Similar to an out of body experience, he watched himself for a moment, lying in his own blood, still on the ground. Like shards of glass, light sporadically poked through the window covers as the soft wind blew them.  
  
"I see myself," Jack said suddenly. "I'm lying on the ground, blood is all around me. It's like I'm watching myself from a surveillance camera."  
  
"What are you doing?" Kayla prompted, even although she'd decided not to ask questions this time. Jack had started speaking about this on his own and Kayla didn't want him to stop. A question here and there would be all right.  
  
"Nothing, I'm just lying there," Jack replied, as though caught up in a dream and reporting back to his conscious thoughts every so often. But just as he'd felt as though he were watching himself, he became himself again. He was no longer watching, he was lying, waiting on the ground. The person he'd seen, he now was again. But it wasn't happening again, it was a memory. This had already happened once - it wasn't happening again now.  
  
//'Through the fogs and mists  
  
You know them as your pain  
They'll never leave your side  
Or come to haunt you again  
Hiding will not shadow you  
Your sentence has been cast  
Nothing will deceive them  
Or hide away your past'//  
  
"Are you awake?" Kayla prodded, noticing Jack had become very distant and quite suddenly.  
  
"Yes," he answered. "I was awake. I was just waiting, silently, for them to come back. I knew they would. They'd just left me there after showing me off to the whole village, like a prize. I remember that I couldn't get up. I tried to, but I couldn't, so I stayed where I was. It felt like I was bleeding from everywhere. I don't really know where I actually was bleeding, but I'm pretty sure it was more than one place. I think I waited an hour for them to come back. I was awake some of the time, but unconscious for a lot of it. It might have been a lot longer than an hour, or a lot less, but it felt like about an hour."  
  
Kayla was pleased. Not about what her patient was recalling, but that he was recalling it of his own free will. He was talking - remembering - and she wasn't asking him questions every two seconds. This was much better than yesterday's session. It would be far more use to him this way, than the alternative. "What happened when the guards came back to you?" Kayla nudged Jack on; he'd stopped for a few minutes.  
  
"I think I was unconscious, or asleep. I remember waking up and feeling pain in my chest and back. They were kicking me, to try and wake me up. I could hear them yelling at me to wake up, but I don't know why they bothered. They had fun anyway."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"It didn't matter if I was conscious or not, they still had fun."  
  
"What did they do this time?" Kayla kept digging. She knew it could be a hazardous thing to do at this stage, but it was important for Jack to continue talking now that he'd started.  
  
"This time was different," Jack said slowly.  
  
Kayla could hear the consideration in his voice. Something about this was more prominent in his mind, to make his mood change, she thought. This was clearly a big change to his usual torture routine, if he needed to contemplate what he was saying. "What was different?"  
  
"The leader came," Jack replied simply. The visions flashing blindingly before his closed eyes were giving him a headache. The pain seemed to shock itself through his mind, another flash of lightning. The blinding pain was slowly worsening as he recalled the moments he had tried to forget.  
  
"The leader? Who was this leader?" Kayla delved deeper into her questioning, only this time it was going to prove to be a bad idea. Jack was gritting his teeth so hard, it hurt. He couldn't do this. He couldn't talk about it; it was too hard.  
  
There was a long period of silence in which Kayla was uncertain if she should prod for further information or just leave the silence to reign. After a few more minutes, Kayla had to bite the bullet and speak. It was too hard not saying anything. "Colonel?" she murmured. "Who was the - "  
  
"No," Jack said suddenly, flinging his eyes open quickly. "No, I can't."  
  
"Can't what? What is it, Colonel?" Kayla asked, noticeably taken by surprise.  
  
"I can't," Jack repeated, swiftly standing up and leaving.  
  
Kayla stood up as Jack left, but didn't follow him. "Damn," she cursed herself and sighed emphatically. I shouldn't have pushed, she thought angrily. I should have left it alone.  
  
@  
  
Kayla sat silently on the bed in her adopted living quarters, listening to Bach's Unaccompanied Cello Suites in her mind. The cello had always been a favourite instrument of hers and hearing the exquisite, intricate detail of the unaccompanied cello, seemed to soothe her knotted mind. And to add to that, Yo-Yo Ma was one of the most talented musicians alive, in her opinion. While at the beginning of Suite No. 1.4, Sarabande, Kayla heard knocking that was clearly not a part of Bach's beautiful concerto.  
  
"It's open," she called and watched as the door opened, to reveal Sam.  
  
"I'm sorry to interrupt you," Sam apologised instantly.  
  
"You're not interrupting anything at all," Kayla smiled, "I was just listening to music in my mind. I can always start again. Come in, come in. What can I do for you, Major?"  
  
Sam smiled gratefully and closed the door behind her, then walked further into the doctors' quarters. "Call me Sam, please. No formality is necessary."  
  
"All right," Kayla agreed, "but only if you agree to call me Kayla?"  
  
"Ok, deal," Sam smiled.  
  
Kayla offered Carter a seat and she took it. "What can I do for you, Sam?" Kayla asked, smiling at the use of the Major's first name. She always liked using peoples' names for the first time.  
  
"Well, this is something that's a little hard to talk about," Sam replied cryptically. What am I doing here? I can't say what I came here to say. I just can't, there's no way I can. I shouldn't even feel it, let alone want to talk about it.  
  
"Ok, you've definitely got me interested," Kayla said. "What is it?" Sam thought for a moment. She couldn't say what she wanted to. What she needed to. No, she couldn't. She had to think of something else, and quick! But there already was something else. She didn't need to think long.  
  
"I know you can't say what you talk about with Colonel O'Neill, but I need to ask something."  
  
"You're right, I can't talk about what Colonel O'Neill and I have discussed, but ask your question anyway."  
  
"I just wondered if he'd mentioned anything about a particular memory that - well I'm not sure what, exactly, but I went to see him the other day to.to talk about something else, and he seemed distressed. He was so distant, and he seemed really troubled about something. I thought maybe it was a particular memory, or a nightmare, but when I asked what was wrong, he asked me to leave. I haven't seen him since, but I thought maybe he might have mentioned something about that, or the thing that was bothering him?"  
  
"I can't really answer that, and you know I can't, but if he had in fact mentioned something like that."  
  
Sam knew exactly what Kayla was very subtly doing, and smiled. "Thank you," she said and left.  
  
Kayla smiled. You're welcome, she thought.  
  
***  
  
Azyalae watched her friends bring in the lifeless body of her latest patient. He'd been to see her many times already, and he'd only been on the planet for a few weeks. Each time she saw him, Azyalae swore he looked worse. His face was drenched in a cold sweat, his whole body shaking endlessly from the cold. His face, neck, chest, arms were all covered in blood. The scarlet substance was smeared over his skin like paint on a wall. His dark brown eyes stared up at her as he was placed on the barns' straw bed. Azyalae frowned sadly. It was horrible to see such horrific injuries on this same man, each and every time he was brought to her. She was willing to admit she wished she didn't have to see him again, just in the hope that it meant he wasn't being tortured anymore. But each time he came back, she knew, her wish wasn't going to come true.  
  
As the guards left the barn, Azyalae sat down on the rickety old chair beside the bed of straw. Jack looked up to her, his whole body trembling. He felt his lips, smeared with dried blood, quivering as he opened his mouth to speak. "I - I'm g- going to - to d-die?" his voice quavered out the small sentence with difficulty.  
  
Azyalae shook her head quickly, taking one of Jack's cold, trembling and blood smeared hands in her own. "No, no," she said. "No, you won't die. I won't allow you to die."  
  
But through the freezing cold, the pain and the weakness, Jack nodded his head. "I - I'm d-dying," he said surely, his words barely a whisper.  
  
"No," Azyalae repeated. "Do not say that. I will not let you die. You will not die." Leaving no further argument, Azyalae got straight to treating the new injuries Jack had acquired from his last routine of torture with Maldo's first prime, Lopbell. It seemed, to Azyalae, the guards were becoming more and more ruthless with their torture. Jack had barely survived last time, and now this. The doctor ignored the shock of the thought that Jack might actually be right in thinking he was going to die. She wouldn't allow him to die, and yet, she felt awful, knowing she was helping him to recover from torture, only to be sent back to the same people for more torture. It seemed wrong either way. A lose, lose situation.  
  
"Azyalae."  
  
Jack's faint voice just caught the doctor's ears as she began cleaning blood away from his arms. She raised her head to look at him fully. The damage was overwhelming. It really was a sight the doctor preferred not to see.  
  
"Yes?" she asked gently, sitting down on the old chair again.  
  
Jack managed to find strength enough to reach for Azyalae's hand and hold it in his own. It was so much warmer than his. He felt as though his bones were brittle from the cold alone. His skin - or what little that seemed to be left of it - so cold, it was like Antarctica all over again, only less protection from the elements.  
  
"Azyalae," Jack said the doctor's name once more, to enforce his seriousness. "P-please, j-just let m-me.l-let me d-die."  
  
Azyalae let her mouth hang slightly open as she looked at the man lying, injured, before her. Her brow slowly creased in distress and anguish as she tried to comprehend what this man was asking her to do. Could she possibly do what he asked? Was it fair for her to grant his wish, while he was in this state? Did he know what he was saying?  
  
But was it fair to send him back to the horror and pain in that little room? That little room with those men who were there solely to inflict pain upon innocent victims as their daily pastime. Could she really sit down and watch guards take this man back to the very place he collected these horrific injuries from? Could she sit back and say it was ok for Jack to suffer through endless, brutal torture for the amusement of Maldo's first- prime?  
  
"No," Azyalae spoke finally. "No, I won't allow you to die. I will not stand by and see you die. I do not wish torture upon you, but I also cannot be the enforcer of death upon you. I do not have that right. I would much rather be the witness to your departure from this place, but as I cannot be that witness yet, I will refuse to see you die. I have seen you are a strong man, Jack. You will not die now, and not for long years to come. This torture will come to an end, and you shall live on, happily, back at your home. I shall not witness your death."  
  
@  
  
"Colonel? Colonel, are you in there?" Sam called to her Colonel's door. She could hear some sounds inside, but couldn't make out what the noise was, specifically. "Colonel? It's Major Carter, Sir. Is everything ok?"  
  
Jack could hear Carter outside his quarters, and prayed she would go away, but knew she wouldn't. It was 03:22, and Jack had been dreaming again. Whether it was a dream, or a nightmare, he hadn't decided yet, but he was sure it wasn't a happy memory. Jack couldn't understand why Carter was outside his door at this hour of the morning, but her voice had somehow entered his nightmare and woken him up. For that much, he was grateful. Getting out of bed, and slowly making his way to the door, Jack shook his head fervently to clear the memories from his mind. It didn't work, but the idea had seemed like a reasonable one.  
  
"Carter?" he said as he opened his door to see Sam standing at his doorway.  
  
"I'm sorry, Colonel, did I wake you?" Sam asked.  
  
"No," Jack lied. He was glad to be awake.  
  
"I'm sorry. It's just, I was walking by and I heard your voice. I thought something might be wrong. Sorry, Sir," Sam explained.  
  
"You were walking past here at three in the morning?"  
  
"I know that might sound odd, Sir, but I couldn't sleep. I was just going for a walk, hoping to clear my head."  
  
"I know how you feel," Jack admitted dejectedly.  
  
"Is there anything I can do, Colonel?"  
  
"Not unless you know a way to erase the past."  
  
Sam thought a moment. That was the most her CO had said to her that indicated he was having difficulty getting away from the memories of the four months he spent on P4C 237. She still wanted desperately to help him, and had offered before, but she just didn't know how.  
  
"No, Sir, I'm afraid I don't," Sam replied honestly and almost forlornly. "Yeah," Jack agreed, in a similar tone, "me either."  
  
The Colonel and Major stood in a semi-uncomfortable silence for a few moments. It seemed like a hundred times longer than it was. "I still want to help you, Sir," Sam said finally. She spoke quietly, her voice giving away her uncertainty with saying what she had. She wasn't sure if it was appropriate for her to persist with something like that, but at the same time, she wasn't willing to just give up. Her CO was going through something and she couldn't hide the fact that she wanted to help.  
  
"You can't, Carter," Jack reiterated from a previous occasion. His situation hadn't changed, and as long as it remained the same way, no one could help. He wished they could, but no one could.  
  
"I want to try," Sam persevered. "Can I try?"  
  
"You can't. You just can't. Don't keep asking, Carter. There's nothing you can do. It's not your fault, you just can't help."  
  
Sam bowed her head and nodded. Ok, she thought, got the message yet, Sam? He made it pretty clear. Give it a rest. Let it go. "Ok," she murmured and left.  
  
Jack sighed and closed his door, going back to his bed. Let someone help, Jack, he thought. Let her try, you know she wants to. Give her the chance to try; it won't hurt. But that was just the point. The problem. It would hurt. Everything still hurt, even now. No one could get close to him now. Not now. Maybe not ever. This was going to haunt him forever. It was his problem, his burden. It wasn't fair to lump anyone else with this heavy burden.  
  
Jack wanted it all to disappear. Wanted it all to leave him alone and never come back, but he knew that was never going to happen. The sooner he came to terms with everything that happened, the better. That was easier said than done.  
  
***  
  
The leader dragged a girl into the room. She couldn't have been more than eighteen. Her skin was dirty, smudged in dirt and bruises, lined in blood. Her long brown hair hung in tatters around her face, the remnants of a brown ribbon still clinging to a few strands of hair. The girl's name was Myra. She had met Carter, working in the fields one day. I had also met her once, while recovering in the barn. She too had been recovering at the time. Apparently, the leader had a fancy for young girls. The thought made me sick.  
  
"Treat yourself to a break in your chores, Lopbell," the leader told his second in command, who nodded in reply.  
  
"Very well, Maldo," Lopbell said.  
  
Maldo. I'd hated that name the moment I heard it, and tried my best not to use it. It sickened me, just hearing it. Bell Boy wasn't treating himself to a break. He liked torturing people. It would probably be torture for him to stop. Specifically, it would be torture for him to stop hurting me. I didn't realise by a break, the leader meant for him to stay and watch someone else suffer through torture. But that's what he'd meant.  
  
"Fetch me a whip," the leader commanded.  
  
Bell Boy complied and fetched his master a whip. The very same whip I had come to know and hate. Soon I would hate it even more. I was lying at the back of the torture chamber, opposite the door. I'd just suffered through days of burning torture, and although I hated to find out what they were going to do to Myra, I was glad for the break. The pain seemed endless to me, though. The fire was still burning within me. All around me. I wasn't sure if I had any skin left, but it felt like I was lying on fire. Breathing in fire. Myra lifted her head and looked at me. Her face was so many different colours, but she still looked better than I felt. I felt sorry for her, knowing that she would look much worse by the time they were finished, but partially grateful that it wasn't me. Then I felt awful for thinking that, and consequently made the pain in my body flare up in my resentment.  
  
For a half hour, I listened to the tortured screams of Myra. Her voice slowly began to etch itself into my brain and started to echo through my head. I couldn't stand hearing her screaming, but I had no strength of my own to do anything about it. Under normal circumstances, I would have done anything to help her, but these weren't normal circumstances and I couldn't do anything. It was hard enough to lift my head, let alone get up. I could barely open my eyes. I wanted to die, there and then. It was a completely different kind of torture to listen to a young girl scream in endless, horrifying pain.  
  
"Stop," I tried to yell, but my voice crackled so quietly from my throat that I could barely hear it. "Stop!" No one heard me. No one blinked. I began to feel angry again. I could feel the bile rising in my throat. I had to do something. I collected all the small bits of strength I had left and channelled them to my throat. "STOP!" I shouted, and actually managed to sound relatively loud. The leader, his first prime and the two guards turned to me all at once. It was like they were all connected to the same circuit.  
  
I could still feel my whole body tremble, in weakness and from the cold, but I raised my head to look at them. They had heard me all right. And now, their question was why? I could see it in their eyes.  
  
"What do you speak?" the leader asked me, his tone the same as always, arrogant.  
  
"Stop," I repeated.  
  
"You shall have to specify your instructions, for you should not be giving them in the first place."  
  
"Stop torturing her," I spat the words out like dirt. I shouldn't have had to say them.  
  
The leader smiled at me, as if he was waiting for me to say it. I wanted to hurt him so badly in that moment.  
  
//'And neither shall you try  
Deceit is just another sin  
Your life will never leave you  
And there is no prize to win  
Stay close to your values  
They were never lost  
Although for their cause  
  
You paid a heavy cost'//  
  
If only I'd had the strength to. "Why is it I should take your orders? You are the one lying helplessly on the ground, are you not?" the leader told me, rather than asked. He knew what I wanted him to do, but he had to hear me say it. I hated him.  
  
"Stop torturing her and take me instead."  
  
"Release her to tend to her regular duties," the leader ordered immediately. I felt relieved in knowing that Myra didn't have to suffer anymore, but even weaker knowing I was about to take her place. I wanted to stay strong and forget the pain, but it just wasn't that easy anymore. Now I'd reached a point where there was no forgetting. Everything was so real that it hurt - literally. I wanted to forget everything. I wanted my memory to somehow be altered - erased. But as I was dragged back to be whipped, I lost my thoughts to the escalating pain burning inside of me.  
  
***  
  
Kayla sat on her bed, the cello in her mind once again. Today it didn't seem to soothe. Yo-Yo Ma's extraordinary playing, Bach's exquisite composition and the general beauty of sound within the strings of the cello was very little ease on Kayla's preoccupied mind. Perhaps preoccupied wasn't the right word, but neither was any other.  
  
Kayla's last session with Colonel O'Neill had been eye opening for her. It was nothing worse than what she had heard before, but it made things a lot clearer in her mind. Perhaps it wasn't even a lot clearer, but something was better than nothing in this instance.  
  
Kayla found her heart really going out to Colonel O'Neill. After extensive talks with Janet, fishing for information, Kayla discovered that Colonel O'Neill reacted extremely to situations such as the one he depicted to have happened on P4C 237. It was then that the psychologist in her partly realised what she hadn't been able to see before. O'Neill had hidden it well and that was his problem. One of them, at least.  
  
He'd remembered that so vividly. Remembered that poor young girl go through the same torture he'd suffered, and he couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand what she had gone through. He could better cope with being tortured, than hearing her go through it.  
  
It had struck him hard, and he remembered it forever now. Forever was a long time.  
  
@  
  
Briefly releasing the tension in her muscles and letting her head fall back against her chair, Sam sighed emphatically. Days seemed to be so long lately and Sam couldn't help feeling a sense of loneliness. She wasn't sure who or what she was lonely from, but something felt missing to her. Why did she feel so empty? Why was work so hard? Why did everything seem difficult when it usually wasn't? Where had her sense gone?  
  
The answers weren't there when she looked for them.  
  
Why do I automatically associate my loneliness with my Colonel's terrible situation? Sam asked her brain. Her brain should have those answers, shouldn't it? No, the answers aren't there. My heart knows those answers. My heart knows more than my brain, but it shouldn't.  
  
I don't feel sorry for him. He wouldn't want anyone's pity, and I don't feel pity. Not predominantly anyway. I feel.sorrow and I feel sadness, but not pity. I feel horrible, knowing that he had to go through what he did without anyone. Without anyone he knew. He went through it all alone, and I feel regretful for that. I think mostly, I feel helpless. There's just nothing I can do to help, in any way. Nothing I say and nothing I do can, or will, help.  
  
That's the worst part - simply knowing there's nothing I can do. 


	6. Fragile Balance

Part 4 - Fragile Balance  
  
The silence was deafening and the darkness painful. Sounds from outside were louder than they should have been. The smallest thing sounded like heavy machinery was working right above his head. Birds sounded like chainsaws and voices like jackhammers. The wind whistled through the small windows of the torture chamber and sounded louder than a tornado.  
  
Jack woke suddenly from a vivid nightmare in which the girl, Myra, was slowly killed before his eyes. He lifted his head quickly to find it hadn't been a nightmare at all. The images flashed by him again, reminding him just how real it all had been. Reality was like a swift kick in the head. It ripped at Jack's heart so hard there was almost nothing left of it. The aching was so bad, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. It was tearing out his insides and slowly killing him.  
  
When Jack opened his eyes, he remembered. The young girl, Myra, was still lying where they'd left her. The leader had slowly killed her - painstakingly slowly. It had lasted days. Jack had been awake the whole time. They hadn't let him rest, or let him have a moments peace since he arrived. Myra had been chained up, whipped, beaten, burned and tortured in every way possible. She had screamed in her endless pain. Her helpless, tortured cries echoed eternally in Jack's mind.  
  
Myra's dead body lay still in the torture chamber. She'd been left there, and had been there for a day now. Her lifeless body was still covered in her blood; her pretty face disfigured by pain and suffering. Bruises and lacerations decorated her body, her eyes opened, seeing the last thing she would ever see. Jack wanted to be in her place. She was young. She shouldn't have had to die. He didn't feel that he should have to die either, but he deserved it more than she did. She was so young.  
  
Jack lifted himself up. He hadn't moved in days; he hadn't been allowed to. The guards had held him in the same position for the days Myra was tortured to death. It had seemed like an eternity to remain in the same position, but lying on the cold ground was no better.  
  
Blinding dizziness instantly filled Jack's head, but he ignored it. It was nothing now, compared to what Myra had had to suffer through. He'd suffered worse, here and elsewhere, but for a young girl like her to have to suffer what she did - it made Jack sick. Not only was it cruel, but it was uncalled for, and unjust. Nothing Myra could have done, nothing in the world, could have been bad enough for her to deserve such a punishment. Nothing.  
  
The cold weather seemed amplified by Jack's hazy perception. Though the temperature was notably low, it felt less than it was to him. His eyes fell on the body of Myra once again, and the sight alone made Jack sick. He swallowed thickly and then vomited painfully at his side. The guards outside the chamber heard Jack's painful retching and opened the door they guarded. Light poured into the room and hit Jack's eyes with the sharpness of a needlepoint. He blinked fervently, squinted and turned his eyes away from the fierce light. He hadn't seen the outside world in weeks. The light seemed foreign.  
  
"You have awoken?" the guard asked the stupidly obvious question, but Jack knew why. These guards were insiders. They worked in closely with Azyalae, the doctor.  
  
"Yes," Jack's voice rasped from his throat as he waited for the guards to take him to Azyalae.  
  
The guards didn't worry about the response as they entered the chamber. They saw the body of Myra, but didn't stop. They knew she was dead. Jack let the guards carry him. He didn't have the strength or stamina to argue with them. His body craved warmth, sustenance and rest. The continuous torture was weakening his immune system and slowing his recovery. The pain seemed to be dragged into endlessness. Everlasting in its evasiveness.  
  
Azyalae frowned in sympathy as her friends, the guards, brought Jack into the barn and left him on the straw bed he now knew so well.  
  
"Are you hurt badly?" Azyalae asked. When given the opportunity to talk to Jack, she liked to take it. So often, he was brought to her unconscious or barely coherent.  
  
"No," Jack replied. He hated to be the beast of someone's burden all the time. Especially Azyalae's. She was not his doctor. She shouldn't have had to be concerned with his injuries as often as she was. He hated it.  
  
"That is untrue," the doctor stated matter-of-factly. Being the doctor, she knew she needn't ask her patients whether or not they were hurt badly - they would not have been sent to her if they weren't - but it felt considerate to ask their own opinion.  
  
Jack's own opinion of his injuries was never worth very much to Azyalae, for he always downgraded his pain, as though trying to make less work for her. She was a doctor - work was her life and the outcome of other people's. It was important for her to know exactly what was going on.  
  
"If you say so," Jack said tonelessly. He hadn't the energy to argue with anyone, least of all Azyalae.  
  
Azyalae saw the emptiness in Jack's eyes, and knew something more than just physical pain was taunting him. "Something more," the doctor thought aloud. "Something troubles you."  
  
"I'm fine," Jack lied.  
  
"Why is it you appear troubled?" Azyalae queried. "Something haunts you, please tell me what it is."  
  
"I'm all right."  
  
"Your eyes say otherwise."  
  
A silence began from then on. The mentioning of eyes traveled Jack's mind and the horrible image of Myra's dead body pushed itself in front of him. Her empty eyes, staring up at him. Begging, one last time, for his help. Begging him for help that he was not permitted to give.  
  
Her eyes were so helpless.  
  
"Her eyes were open," Jack murmured distantly. "They left her eyes open."  
  
"Of whom do you speak?" Azyalae asked in confusion. Was this a memory from his past? A dream? A nightmare?  
  
"Myra. They killed her and left her eyes open."  
  
Azyalae gasped. Myra was dead.  
  
"They killed Myra?" she asked, shocked but knowing she had heard correctly. "Myra is dead."  
  
Myra was Azyalae's younger sister. She had not seen her sister healthy in three years. It was always unpleasant circumstances that brought them together. Azyalae's family had been killed, long ago, but Myra was all she had left. When her young sister came to the barn to be cared for, it was hard for Azyalae to contain her emotions, but she was a doctor, she had to. Hearing the news of Myra's death was far too much for the doctor to handle. Emotions had no barriers now.  
  
Tears began to fall from Azyalae's normally bright, blue eyes. She hung her head low and her long burgundy hair fell around her face. She felt unexplainable anger toward Jack in that moment, but inside, knew it wasn't his fault. He had been in that room with Myra when she died.  
  
He should have helped her! Why didn't he help her?!  
  
Jack watched Azyalae for a moment. His own weakness made the situation seem strange. Difficult to understand. Why was Azyalae so upset? She'd seen people die before and never reacted this way. What was different about Myra's death?  
  
"Azyalae?"  
  
The doctor looked up and saw Jack's concerned face. In that moment, her anger towards him was so strong she felt no sympathy for the fact that he had watched Myra die a slow, painful and undeserved death.  
  
"How could you have not helped her?" she spat the words like dirt. How could he have let her die?  
  
"I - I couldn't," Jack was at a loss for words. He couldn't explain the amazing guilt he felt. Azyalae's obvious anger towards him was making the whole thing feel worse. "They - I - I don't know what to say."  
  
"You should have helped her!" Azyalae screeched and like lightning, jumped from her chair and had her hands around Jack's throat in one flashing instant. The shock of her sister's death was blinding Azyalae; she couldn't feel. "She died for nothing! No one helped her!" the doctor cried, tears streaking from her eyes. "No one tried to save her!"  
  
"I wanted - Azyalae, please.I - I can't breathe."  
  
The doctor's hands were gripped so tightly around Jack's neck, demonstrating strength she never knew she had. The shock was controlling her actions, the pain blinding her from seeing what she was doing. Jack began to feel his lungs burning for air. His eyes gathered stinging tears and his face lost the very small amount of color it had left. "Azyalae." his voice weakly rasped from his throat.  
  
In a flashing moment, Azyalae realised what she was doing. Her consciousness came back to her and she looked down to see her hands gripped tightly around Jack's throat. What was she doing? She immediately released her strong hold and listened to Jack coughing for a few moments as he got his breath back. Azyalae's mouth hung slightly open and trembled as she stared into nothingness, taking on board what she had done as well as the death of her sister. After a moment, she began chewing her bottom lip and tears started falling from her eyes again.  
  
"Oh, dear Jack, I'm so sorry," she cried. "I didn't realize what I was doing to you. I really meant you no harm. I'm very sorry."  
  
Jack slowly regained a steady breathing rhythm and sat up. It took every iota of energy he had, but he needed to sit.  
  
"You knew her, didn't you?" he asked Azyalae. She had to have known Myra to create such a reaction to the shocking news of the young girl's death.  
  
"She was my sister," Azyalae replied, her voice quieter than a whisper. "She was my beautiful little sister. Oh, this is so unjust!"  
  
The doctor's tears overtook her instantly and she fell, sobbing, into Jack's arms. He had little strength to hold her, but she didn't notice, nor did she care.  
  
Jack was the only one who could understand.  
  
After a few short minutes, guards came to return Jack to the torture chamber. His break was short lived.  
  
***  
  
Jack got up and silently left Kayla's quarters. He'd been talking all morning; he had nothing left to say.  
  
Kayla sat motionless in her chair for five minutes of silence. She wasn't sure how to feel, what to think. It was easier to help, now that she had this information, but at the same time, it was harder. How could she approach something like this? What could she possibly say?  
  
Yes, she was a psychologist; she was supposed to know about this sort of thing. She was supposed to have been trained to deal with situations like these, and worse. But no one can ever be taught what to do in a situation like this. No matter how much training, no matter how much practicing - no one can ever be taught how to deal with situations like this.  
  
No one.  
  
Kayla paced her room for a time - she wasn't sure how long. It didn't matter; nothing seemed to help. She needed to find something that would help Colonel O'Neill, but what could possibly help? What could possibly make something like what he felt, better? As yet, Kayla had no answers. There was nothing she could think to do. While her brain pounded in her head, she heard an added pound that wasn't in her head. It was at her door.  
  
"Come in," she called weakly. She felt weak as Hell; there was nothing she could do.  
  
"Kayla, you busy?" Janet asked as she opened the door to her friend's quarters.  
  
"It doesn't matter anyway," Kayla mumbled as a reply.  
  
"What's wrong? Is everything ok?"  
  
"Of course, everything is fine."  
  
"Why don't I believe you?" Janet stated, rather than asked as she sat down alongside her friend on the bed.  
  
"Because I'm not telling the truth," Kayla answered truthfully and sighed.  
  
"I didn't think so. What is it? It must be awful to make you seem so worried. I've never seen you like this."  
  
"That's because I don't think I've ever felt like this. Not since my parents died."  
  
Janet frowned. It would have to be very serious to affect Kayla this badly; whatever 'it' was. Janet didn't even remember Kayla being emotional when her parents had died, and even though she wasn't being emotional now, something was plaguing her. It was written all over her face.  
  
"Kayla, what is it? You have to tell me. I know I haven't seen you in years, but we were best friends. We still are as far as I'm concerned. You've got to tell me what's wrong."  
  
"I would, Janet, you know I would, but I can't." Kayla sighed again and closed her eyes. This shouldn't be plaguing her so much. She didn't even understand why it was, but she couldn't help it. It was getting to her on a deep, personal level. It was beginning to haunt her. I shouldn't have let this happen.  
  
"Is it about Colonel O'Neill? Is that why you can't tell me?"  
  
"I can't tell you, you're right. And yes, that is the reason why."  
  
"If you think you can't tell me because of doctor/patient confidentiality, that could be waived for me. I am his doctor."  
  
"But you're not his psychologist. At the moment, I am, and I can't tell you anything we've discussed. Even though you're his doctor, I still can't tell you. I'm very sorry."  
  
"Don't be sorry, Kayla, I'm just worried about you. I'm just being a friend. I know you can't tell me. It's ok."  
  
Kayla looked up to her friend and forced an appreciative smile. She did appreciate Janet's concern, she really did. It was nice to know Janet cared, but there really was nothing she could do to help. If only there was something.  
  
"Thank you, Janet," Kayla said. "I really appreciate it."  
  
"I know you do," Janet smiled and got up to leave. "Just remember you can talk to me any time. I'll be your psychologist, if you like?"  
  
Both Janet and Kayla chuckled. Laughter was an important thing. It would never fail anyone. Kayla watched her friend leave her room and waited to hear the click the door made when it was closed. After hearing it, Kayla sighed deeply and flopped over her adopted bed - one thought still in her mind.  
  
Laughter would never fail.  
  
@  
  
I sat in the darkness of my quarters, a million thoughts rushing my mind all at once. I had just told someone the one thing I promised myself I wouldn't tell anyone. I was going to keep it to myself. No one needed to know. I could pretend that I was getting better. No one had to see the bigger picture. No one needed to know. I was angry with myself for talking about it - for telling Kayla. I should have kept it to myself. I knew I should have. It's on my mind again, now. It won't go away for days. It always stays. It's always there, in my mind. It's like a tumor and it's killing me.  
  
I pulled out a few loose sheets of paper from my desk as I switched on the lamp. If I couldn't talk about this, I needed to write it down. Keeping this all to myself would work, but it would keep hurting. It was always going to hurt.  
  
Always.  
  
After a small search, I found a working pen and wrote the date on my first sheet of paper. I didn't know how I could start writing about this. It was like writing a book, or an essay, or a mission report. Even mission reports were hard sometimes. This was so much harder. So much harder. I allowed myself some thinking time - time to gather my thoughts. It took a long time. I had so many thoughts, and they were so varied, so widely spread through my head. I found something relevant first. Something I tried not to think about, but still did. Something that plagued me.but everything plagued me. Everything I remember, it all plagues me. That's where I began.  
  
Every thought in my mind haunts me with every minute, of every day. My sleep - when I get it - is haunted by my memories. Ghosts of my past, scream in my head, taunting my thoughts - constantly reminding me of their everlasting presence. They're a tumor. The tumor is killing me. Everyone thinks I hold onto everything and remember it. That I make things worse for myself by not trying to move on. What they don't realize is that my memories won't let me. I try - I try so hard - to forget everything that's happened. Maybe I don't even try to forget, but I try to move on. I try to get on with now, and leave the past where it should be. I try so hard to be here, in the now. I try so goddamned hard, but I just can't. I'm weak. I thought I could be strong, I thought I was strong enough to move on from this. I thought I could get past it and make the most of now. I thought I could. I thought I could do so much, but I can't. But the memories won't leave me alone. They won't leave me alone! They're everywhere I go! They won't leave me alone! They just won't leave me!  
  
The pen slipped out of my hand, and I raised my hands to my face. I couldn't get away from it all, even when I tried to write it down and get it out of my head. While writing, my memories still got the better of me. Why was I letting this happen?  
  
I shouldn't be letting memories control me. I shouldn't be letting any of this happen, but I can't stop it. I can't anymore. I thought I was strong, one time. I don't think I am though. I'm weak. God, this shouldn't be happening! I shouldn't be acting like this! I shouldn't be letting this happen to me!  
  
//'All the ones around you  
Will be there until the end  
They care that you return  
For you are a valued friend  
Sight should not be lost  
On something far away  
The people that love you  
Will never make you pay'//  
  
I got up with the piece of paper crunched in my hand. I paced my room, back and forth in front of my door. Finally, I let the paper fall to the ground by the door, before I left my quarters. I couldn't stand being in there anymore. I felt restricted, closed in. It was just like the torture chamber on P4C 237. Just like it. I hated it.  
  
@  
  
Sam was beginning to feel guilty again. She hadn't seen her CO in days, and she wondered if it was because she had hounded him so much about wanting to help. Maybe it was. Maybe she was just being paranoid. Maybe she wasn't.  
  
As she passed the closed door of his quarters, she felt compelled to do something. Apologize? Stop and say hello? Offer help once again? What? She didn't know why she had to stop, but she did. Knocking lightly on the closed door, she heard no noise inside the room, nor did the door open. After waiting nearly five minutes in front of the closed door, she turned the handle, to find that the door was unlocked. Suddenly her conscience spoke to her. What if he's in there and wants to be left alone? She asked herself. What if he's asleep? Trying to find peace?  
  
"Colonel?" Sam said quietly as she slowly opened the door and looked inside the dark room. "Sir? It's Major Carter," she continued to whisper and then stepped into the room.  
  
Flipping the light switch answered Sam's questions; Colonel O'Neill wasn't there. Although she felt it was wrong for her to be in her CO's quarters when he wasn't there and could be back any minute, she stayed. She'd never really looked closely at her CO's living quarters. Like all quarters, it was a bland room. Hers were the same. There was very little anyone could do to make them look more inviting than a prison cell. Little personal touches was all anyone could do.  
  
Colonel O'Neill didn't stay on the base often, but he had some personal items around. A small photo of his deceased son, Charlie, was face down on his desk and another photo of SG-1 was framed on his bedside table. It had been taken at a Christmas party from the previous year. They were all standing close together, wearing various decorative items to symbolize the festive season, and laughing. They all looked so happy. So carefree.  
  
They were happy.  
  
A smile crept to Sam's face as she remembered the night. It had been fun. As she looked away from the photo and happy memories, Sam saw a scrunched up piece of paper on the floor by the door. Knowing she shouldn't look, but wanting to, she allowed her curiosity to get the better of her and she picked up the paper. Folding it out, she saw her CO's handwriting on it. Was this personal? Should she be looking at this? Of course I shouldn't be, she answered her own questions. I shouldn't even be in his quarters, let alone reading things he's written. Although she knew it was wrong, she couldn't stop her eyes from falling on her Colonel's writing, and reading it.  
  
Sam felt her mouth open in disbelief as she read her CO's words. How could he keep all of this to himself? She thought. How could he believe those things about himself?  
  
Sam shook her head and pushed the piece of paper into her pocket. He was wrong for thinking those things. No one thought of him the way he wrote. No one thought that. They might guess that he was holding on to some things, but they didn't think he tried to make things worse for himself. They didn't think that at all. Quickly leaving her Colonel's quarters with the crumpled piece of paper in her pocket, Sam headed to her own quarters. She needed to decide what to do about what she'd read. What more could she do? Hadn't she done enough already just by interfering and going into his quarters the way she had? What else could she do? 


	7. Solitudes

Part 5 - Solitudes  
  
Jack didn't know where he was going or why, but he found himself outside Kayla's door and knocked. What am I doing? He thought. Why am I here?  
  
"Just a minute," Kayla called from inside the room.  
  
Jack frowned. Why had he no control over anything lately? Everything he did, everything he said; he just didn't seem to have control of anything lately. After a moment, Kayla opened the door to her quarters and saw Jack.  
  
"Colonel O'Neill," she stated, a little surprised. "What can I do for you?"  
  
Jack shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know," he answered truthfully, for he had no idea why he was even there.  
  
Kayla frowned slightly, and then fully opened her door. "Would you like to come in?"  
  
Although uncertain, Jack nodded. Kayla smiled and let him enter, then she followed after closing the door. "Sit down, Colonel," she offered as she pulled out a chair for herself to sit on.  
  
Jack copied the action and sat down. He felt uncomfortable; he still didn't understand why he was here. Why had he let himself come here? Why couldn't he control his own actions lately? What was wrong with him?  
  
"What's on your mind, Colonel?" Kayla asked straight out. "What's troubling you?"  
  
"Nothing, something, everything," Jack replied. "I don't know."  
  
"It's written on your face. Something is definitely on your mind. Now, you must know what that is."  
  
Jack nodded inside himself and allowed the silence to reign. He knew Kayla was right. There was something bothering him, and it must be written on his face because he could feel it all through his body. It was plaguing him again. Would this thing ever go away? Would he ever be able to move on from this thing? "She shouldn't have died," Jack murmured. "She shouldn't have had to suffer the way she did."  
  
Kayla couldn't hide a sad frown. She felt amazingly sad in knowing a young girl had had to suffer and die. She also felt the same sadness in knowing that Jack blamed himself so completely for the young girls' death. He blamed himself, and felt guilty for the fact he hadn't done anything to help her.  
  
"There was nothing you could have done," Kayla reminded him. "You had suffered endless hours of torture before and after her. They kept you alive so they could continue. They could have killed you, but they chose to keep you alive to keep bringing you closer to death without letting you die. They - "  
  
"I know what they did," Jack cut off Kayla softly. He knew all too well precisely what they had done to him. The memories of that torture would never leave his mind for as long as he lived. He would always remember what they did to him.  
  
"There had to have been something I could have done. I should have done something to help her. She shouldn't have died. She didn't need to die."  
  
"You have to understand and believe the truth, Colonel," Kayla said gently, unwilling to make him angry by sounding condescending. "There was nothing you could do to help her. It was not your fault that she died."  
  
Jack stood up swiftly, the chair toppling behind him and onto the floor. "I can't believe that," he said. "I should have done something! She should not have died. God, why won't this leave me alone?! I should have done something, anything!"  
  
"Jack," Kayla said calmly, also standing up, "you have to stop blaming yourself for this. You really do need to believe that there was nothing you could have done - because that's the truth. If you could have done anything to save that girl, you would have. Deep down, you must know that."  
  
His teeth clenched and eyes fixed on the floor, Jack was silent for a moment. "I can't believe that," he said finally and left. Kayla sighed but didn't follow him.  
  
Sooner or later, he'll either crack or realise the truth. One or the other. Let's hope it's the latter.  
  
@  
  
Still carrying the piece of paper she'd found in Colonel O'Neill's quarters in her pocket, Sam headed to Kayla's quarters. As she arrived, she saw the psychologist standing in the open doorway, anxiety in her eyes.  
  
"Kayla?" Sam said in concern.  
  
"Sam," Kayla responded. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"I just had a chat with your Colonel, and he's not doing so well."  
  
"I just came to see you because I found this in his quarters. Please don't ask me why I was there."  
  
Kayla frowned in confusion, took the paper from Sam's outstretched hand and began to read. The words scrawled onto the paper didn't surprise her. She'd just heard similar ones coming directly from the horse's mouth, so to speak. Now the question was, where had he gone, and would he be ok alone?  
  
"Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" Kayla asked. "He left here, and he wasn't in the best frame of mind. I don't think it's wise for him to be alone right now."  
  
Sam thought a moment and then remembered a conversation she and Colonel O'Neill had had a few weeks before going back to P4C 237. "I might know," she muttered, almost to herself and left for the elevator.  
  
//'I'll always remember  
It was late afternoon  
It lasted forever  
  
And ended so soon'//  
  
Once at the surface, I looked for my Colonel. He'd told me that when he wanted to be alone to think on base, he often went to the surface. There was a certain spot, a fallen log, where he liked to sit and think. I thought I'd find him there, and I did.  
  
//'You were all by yourself  
  
Staring up at a dark gray sky  
I was changed'//  
  
It was one of the darkest afternoons I'd seen in a long time. The sky was dark and gray, almost scary looking. Colonel O'Neill was sitting on the fallen log he'd spoken of, looking up at the eerily dark sky. It felt as though it would rain any moment. The clouds were almost black.  
  
"Colonel," I said as I approached him.  
  
He turned to me and he looked so sad. Sadness was veiled over him like a blanket over a fire. "I told you, didn't I?" he said.  
  
"You said you liked to come here when you wanted to be alone to think," I replied, knowing what he'd meant.  
  
He nodded. I guess he thought I would've forgotten. "Didn't think you'd remember that," he murmured as I sat down beside him. I nodded. "I thought you'd think that. Kayla said you weren't in a very good frame of mind - that you shouldn't be alone. Do you mind if I keep you company?"  
  
"Not very good company right now, Carter."  
  
"I don't mind, Sir," I said. "I'll just sit here."  
  
For a while, we stayed like that. We both just sat in silence, watching the sky. Impossible as it seemed, it seemed to get darker as the time went by. I didn't even know how long I'd been there, when Colonel O'Neill started talking. I hadn't even asked him anything. I think he needed someone to listen. He didn't need me to talk, or comment, or give reassurance that he'd done the right thing; he just needed me to listen.  
  
So, that's what I did.  
  
"I just sat there and watched her die," he said, the same sadness in his voice. "She died for days, right in front of me and I didn't do anything to stop it happening. She screamed and screamed and begged for help and I just laid there! God, I didn't do anything! Her blood was everywhere and I kept wondering if more of it was hers than mine. I wondered when they were going to start on me again. When I was going to be in her place again. When they were going to start killing me again. They made me stay awake to watch her suffer and die a slow, painful death. They made her suffer and they made me watch. I just watched! I watched her die! I just sat there and watched her die!"  
  
//'In places no one will find  
All your feelings so deep inside  
It was then that I realised  
That forever was in your eyes  
The moment I saw you cry'//  
  
As his hands shook, the Colonel raised his hands to his face. I felt water dripping onto my hands and face, and realised that it was raining. I looked up the gray sky and allowed the water droplets to gradually soak my hair, 'til it was dripping. I didn't know what to do to help my CO. I wanted to do whatever I could, but I just didn't know what would help.  
  
//'I wanted to hold you  
I wanted to make it go away  
  
I wanted to know you  
  
I wanted to make your everything, all right...'//  
  
"Colonel," I said the only thing that came to my mind. He let his hands slide away from his face and turned to me. There were tears in his eyes, and although it was raining, I knew he was crying. I knew, yet I had no idea what I could do to help. I'd never seen my CO this emotional before, and it hit me. It was one of the most powerful and moving moments of my life - to see this man cry.  
  
His eyes went on forever, their depth. The emotion in his face drew a string on my heart. I felt like I was going to cry as well. Tears began to well in my eyes as we looked at each other and the rain continued to soak us.  
  
Tears and rain streaked Colonel O'Neill's face and all I could think to do was hold him. I leant forward and put my arms around him. I held him close to me as though I could make all his pain go away just by being there. I wished I could, but I knew I couldn't. I couldn't help frowning as I held onto my Colonel and I slowly began to cry. Joining the rain, tears ran down my face and dripped onto my CO's already wet clothing. I pushed him back to look at his face. "I want to help you so badly, Colonel," I told him softly, my voice quivering from the cold. "Will you let me help?"  
  
We both trembled from the cold and wet. We stared at each other for a long moment. I could tell he didn't know what to say to me. He didn't know how to answer, but it didn't matter to me anymore. I wanted to help, and whether he thought I could or not, I was going to try. "Even if I can't, I'm still going to try," I said.  
  
The Colonel nodded. We both looked up.  
  
"We're getting wet," I tried to laugh but I couldn't. I wiped my eyes then let my right hand rest on my CO's face. He let his eyes fall to my face and I felt lost in them already. They were such endless eyes. So full of meaning and feeling. I wanted to dive into them.  
  
//'I'll always remember  
It was late afternoon  
It lasted forever  
And ended so soon  
  
In places no one will find  
All your feelings so deep inside  
It was then that I realised  
That forever was in your eyes  
The moment I saw you cry'//  
  
I realised that my lips were trembling. My clothes were clinging to me like the sea to the shore. I felt like they were glued to my skin. I felt weak, and my clothes felt heavy on me. Like weights hanging on my arms and legs. Time seemed to be dripping by, along with the rain. As I looked into my Colonel's eyes, I felt drawn to him. After a moment, without thinking, I slid forward and pressed my lips against his. I moved myself closer to him and put my hands on his face. I felt as though I needed to be close to him. As close as possible. It didn't matter that it was pouring with rain and that we were soaking wet, I just had to be near him. I wanted so badly to help, and somehow I thought this was one way to try.  
  
I don't know if it was wise or not, or if it was the right thing to do, but I kept kissing my CO. I couldn't stop. I'd never felt the strange sensation before. It seemed to consume me and force me to keep kissing him. I couldn't pull away, but not just because of that feeling.  
  
I didn't want to stop.  
  
I realised it was wrong after a few minutes, and I stopped. I moved back and looked at his face in full. He didn't look angry or hurt. He hadn't stopped me. What had I done? What was I doing? What was clouding my judgment?  
  
"I'm sorry," I said, frowning and moving my hands away from my Colonel's face. My body was shaking, and I felt like I was swimming in the rain. I was so cold. I wasn't sure what I'd just done, but I regretted it already. Colonel O'Neill still hadn't said anything.  
  
"I.I don't know what I'm doing," I tried to explain, but realised I couldn't because I didn't know what was happening to me. I had these amazingly strong feelings for a man I should never have begun to see the way I saw him now. I didn't even know how I'd let myself see him this way. I don't remember when I began to see him the way I do now, but it had happened. It had happened, and now I couldn't do anything about my feelings.  
  
But even though I can't change my feelings, I should be able to control my actions. I should know when to stop - when I've gone too far. Clearly, I didn't know when I'd gone too far, because I just had. I'd just crossed the line between acceptable and not acceptable and now, I didn't know what to do.  
  
"I - I'm sorry," I said again. I didn't know what else to say. Somewhere in my mind, I was wondering why we were still sitting outside in the rain, and yet at the same time, I was wondering why I was even here in the first place. Somewhere else in my mind, I was worried about what Colonel O'Neill was going to say about what I'd just done, and I was wondering what was going to happen now I'd done it. There were so many thoughts in my head, I couldn't see one long enough to distinguish it from any of the others. I was so cold and so wet, I wanted to get out of the rain. I felt as though I was getting sick already, but I didn't know how to say that I wanted to go inside. I didn't know how to get up and go, without Colonel O'Neill and I parting and not discussing what had happened out here. We needed to discuss it, but that was just as difficult to talk about.  
  
"I think we should go inside, Colonel," I said after nearly ten minutes of us sitting in silence. I got up but noticed that my CO didn't follow. "Colonel?" I asked, feeling the need for us both to go inside before we got sick from being so cold and wet for so long. "Sir, we're going to get really sick if we don't go inside."  
  
He didn't even look up at me. He was somewhere else; I could see it in his eyes. He wasn't there with me, outside in the rain. He was shaking from the cold, but he had no recognition of the temperature in his eyes. He was somewhere else entirely. Away from his troubled mind. I wished I knew where he was in that moment. I wished I could be there too, to make it all better, somehow. But I knew I couldn't be there with him. I knew he needed this time alone, to think. The only reason I needed to interrupt his thoughts was because I knew I couldn't let him stay out here in the rain. He needed the time alone to think, and that was understandable, but not here. Not while the weather was like this and looked as though it was going to stay this way. It didn't look like it was going to stop raining any time soon. In fact, it looked as though it may turn to sleet.  
  
"Colonel, the weather is only going to get worse. Please come back inside," I begged. It was the only thing I could think to do to get him to listen to me.  
  
"I was hung outside like laundry for weeks in worse weather than this, when I was barely conscious, Carter," he said tonelessly, never looking away from the sky. I frowned, not knowing what else to say. I knew his memories must be plaguing his mind. I just wished I knew what I could do to be of some help - even if only a little. I didn't know what I could say or do. I just nodded and left. I wasn't going to stand there and tell my CO what to do - I had no right to do that. So, I left. I felt bad for going, but I was also beginning to feel sick, and couldn't afford any unnecessary illness.  
  
@  
  
Sam entered the Infirmary and saw Dr. Fraiser tending to a patient. The doctor smiled at the injured man and then looked Sam's way. Instantly, Janet went over to her friend.  
  
"Sam, what happened?" she asked concernedly. "Where've you been?"  
  
"I was on the surface," Sam replied, still shivering from the intense cold. "I went to talk to Colonel O'Neill and it started raining."  
  
"You're soaked," Janet stated the obvious. "I'll get you a towel, sit down." Sam nodded and watched her friend leave to find a towel. A towel wouldn't help the ice-cold feeling running through her veins. It almost penetrated her bones and made them brittle. It felt as though ice cubes were sliding down into her stomach. "Here," Dr. Fraiser said as she returned to Sam, sitting on an Infirmary bed.  
  
Carter wrapped the towel around herself and continued shivering - the towel was cold comfort when she still couldn't get her CO out of her mind. He was still on the surface, and she'd left him there.  
  
"Sam? Penny for your thoughts?" Fraiser said as she noticed her friend's distant stare.  
  
Sam blinked fervently then turned to the Doctor. "You'd need a bit more than that," she replied, forcing a small smile to her face. "I think I'll go take a shower."  
  
"Don't think you can do that, Sam," Fraiser responded, gaining a puzzled glance from Carter. "Men's locker room now. Just missed out."  
  
"Oh. Ok, well.I'll just go then," Sam muttered.  
  
"Most teams are offworld at the moment. You could probably get away with a quick scrub," Janet added.  
  
Sam nodded, more to herself than anyone else. She knew it was obvious, just by her expression, that there was something on her mind. Janet was smart - it wouldn't take much to give it away to her. She knew Sam well anyway. Even if she hid it well, Fraiser would still pick up on something amiss. Finally, Sam allowed herself to speak about what had happened on the surface between her and her CO. She knew Janet still wanted to know. Fraiser listened intently as Carter went over everything. It was all very intriguing, but the doctor had suspected something would happen between them sooner or later. It was no surprise for her to learn that one of them had finally given in and allowed their true feelings to show - even if it was only briefly.  
  
"He's still up there, sitting in the rain, Janet," Sam said worriedly. "I tried to get him to come back with me, but he said he'd lived out in weather worse than that before. Been made to live out in conditions like that. When he said it, it made me realise that I still don't know anything. I don't know anything about what he went through. I so badly want to know, so I can help somehow, but I don't know. I don't know if he'll ever share everything he feels with anyone."  
  
"I think you're right about that," Janet agreed. "I think Colonel O'Neill's past - his memories - are going to stay with him for a very long time. If not forever. He's one of those people that deals with things on their own. He doesn't want anyone else to feel sorry for him because of everything he went through or burden them. Doesn't want people thinking about what he's been through every time they see him. Wondering if he's ok. I can understand how he would feel that way - he's a strong man - but I can't begin to understand how he does it. I wouldn't be able to keep all that inside me the way he does. It would send me insane."  
  
Sam nodded again. She agreed. She didn't know how someone could keep all of their feelings to themselves and not go insane. She knew if she tried, she would hate it. Granted, she kept certain things to herself, but not everything. Experiences like the one Colonel O'Neill experienced on P4C 237, Sam knew she could never keep to herself. Keeping that to herself would make her lose it for sure. That's why she so badly wanted - needed - to help her CO. She had to find a way to help him. She had to.  
  
"He's going to get really sick if he stays on the surface for much longer," Sam said. "I think I should go back and try to make him come inside."  
  
"No need, Carter," Jack said as he walked into the Infirmary - dripping wet.  
  
"Colonel," Sam sighed as she got up. "Are you ok, Sir? I was just.of course you're ok. I'm sorry."  
  
"It's all right. I'm fine."  
  
Janet silently eyed the behavior between Colonel and Major, then went to get another towel. "Here, Colonel. You're dripping all over my Infirmary," the doctor smiled as she handed the towel to O'Neill and indicated to the floor with a nod of her head.  
  
"Sorry, Doc," Jack said, taking the towel and holding it as though it were a gift. "I guess I'll go. Thanks again, Janet," Sam said awkwardly as the trio stood in silence.  
  
Jack watched his second in command leave, and then handed the towel back to Dr. Fraiser. "Thanks Doc," he said as he also left.  
  
Janet raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "So much for the towel idea." 


	8. Need

Part 6 - Need  
  
Having the same idea on their minds, Jack and Sam both headed to the showers after going to their quarters to get some clean and dry clothes. Thinking she would be safe to grab a quick shower, considering half the base was supposedly off world, Sam quickly made her way down to the locker room. She was sure she was going to get sick. Even though she hadn't been in her wet clothes that long, it had been long enough. She remembered the times when her mother always used to remind her that staying in wet clothes would only get her a cold, nothing else.  
  
Smiling at the memory, Sam hurried on her way. Going no further than being sure it was men's locker room, Jack headed in that direction after collecting some dry BDUs from his quarters. It didn't bother him that he was wet. He felt as though he could've sat in that rain all day, only that it brought back too many painful memories. Nothing a long, hot shower couldn't fix. Nothing would fix the memories - make the pain go away - but little things helped.  
  
At the locker room, the inevitable occurred. Colonel and Major met. Both confused, they frowned. "Colonel."  
  
"Carter," they spoke simultaneously.  
  
Realization took a moment to hit Sam, but when it did, she realised that she was the one who shouldn't be there. It was men's locker room. She was only hoping that she would be fortunate enough to find it empty. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't fortunate enough.  
  
Does this mean something? Sam thought suddenly. Things keep happening around us. Things that seem to be subtly bringing us together. Maybe I'm reading too much into it.probably am. I guess I just can't deny what I want.  
  
"I'm sorry, Colonel," Sam said. "I thought, seeing as there are very few people left on the base, I might be able to get away with a quick shower. I do realize that it's men's locker room, but I just thought.well, it's ok. I'll just go. Sorry, Sir."  
  
As quick as all the words had fallen from her mouth, Sam turned and left. Jack had wanted to say something, even though he didn't know what, but was left with no chance to. He didn't know what to do anymore. Everything around him just seemed so hard. It was all too difficult. Why had everything become so hard? Why had little things turned to giant issues? Why was everything happening this way? What could he do to fix these problems?  
  
@  
  
The next day, Jack began to feel the acute symptoms of either a cold or the flu - he couldn't decide which. It was clear that being out in the freezing temperatures of the previous day and getting so wet, had in fact been a mistake. Of course, he hadn't thought otherwise, but at the time he couldn't have cared less about a cold or the flu. It had been the last thing on his mind. Not wanting to go to see Dr. Fraiser - knowing she would only tell him the obvious and give him pills - Jack avoided seeing anyone for the day. His quarters soon became boring, however, and he ventured away from the silence of them in the hopes of finding some distraction from his haunting memories. Hoping to conceal his sickness was near to impossible, and as Jack left his quarters, he noticed the stares other people gave.  
  
His skin was an insipid shade of white, his nose felt as though it were twice its normal size and red as a tomato, he was constantly sneezing, coughing and sniffing, he felt as cold as ice and couldn't stop shaking. It wasn't a pretty picture.  
  
"Oh no," Jack released a muffled and nasally sigh as he saw Daniel and Carter walking in his direction. He knew they'd see him and notice how sick he looked. Of course, Jack could just barely admit to himself that he was unwell, but he knew everyone else would take one look at him and instantly want to drag him off to the Infirmary. It was the least of his worries, but the Infirmary was the last place he wanted to be. He didn't even know where he wanted to be, but he sure as hell knew where he didn't want to be and the Infirmary was top of the list.  
  
"Colonel," Sam said instantly as she saw her CO trying to shield his face away from her and Daniel.  
  
Jack looked up and tried to smile for his second in command, however unsuccessfully.  
  
"God, Jack," Daniel didn't try to hide his reaction to his friend's appearance, "you look terrible. What the hell happened to you?"  
  
Sam silently cringed and bit her lip. She hadn't told Daniel anything about the previous day, and now wished she had. Although it was likely the situation at hand would be no different if Daniel did know the reason Jack looked so sick, perhaps he would've thought twice about asking so coarsely. "I took a walk in the rain, Daniel," Jack replied equally as roughly. "Pretty stupid, huh?"  
  
"Could I have a minute alone with Colonel O'Neill please, Daniel?" Sam intervened gently before an argument broke out between the two.  
  
"Yeah," Jackson said, eyeing his friends, but leaving without further ado.  
  
"What is it, Carter? If you're just going to tell me to go to the Infirmary - forget it."  
  
"Can we talk somewhere else, Sir?" Sam asked calmly. She didn't want to push a point, but she did want her CO to go to the Infirmary. It was a small thing; so she knew it would be a big ask for him. He hated the Infirmary - she was well aware of that.  
  
"Yah," Jack answered, and nodded to the direction he'd come from - back to his quarters.  
  
"What is it, Carter?" Jack asked again, once inside his quarters with the door closed. Sam sighed quietly. Stubborn man, she thought. Doesn't like people to be concerned about him.  
  
"You really don't look well, Colonel," she launched straight into her campaign. "It could be the flu, and if you don't do something about it soon, it'll only get worse."  
  
"So you did only come here to lecture me," Jack said incredulously, shaking his head. "I don't need anybody's lectures, Carter, especially not about how it'll only get worse if I don't do something about it. I've been sick before; I know how it works. I'll be fine."  
  
"I don't agree, Sir," Carter continued. "You're extremely pale, and you look very - "  
  
"Carter! I don't want to hear it!"  
  
Sam left her mouth open and stared at her Colonel. She had probably been pushing her point a bit too far, but she admittedly hadn't expected that reaction. "I-I'm sorry, Colonel. I'm just.I'm concerned for you. That's all. I'm sorry; I'll go."  
  
As Sam turned to go, Jack cursed himself silently. He knew she was worried about him. He knew that. He wished he would think, sometimes, before he spoke. "Carter," he said quickly, making her stop and turn back to him. "Sorry. I know you're.I know. You don't have to go."  
  
Sam half-smiled. "Ok," she murmured. "I just don't want you to hurt anymore, Colonel. Somehow, I just want to make sure you're ok."  
  
"I appreciate that. Really. But I'm fine."  
  
Sam opened her mouth to counter her CO's last words, but quickly thought better of it. She didn't want to start an argument that was unnecessary. "Ok, Sir."  
  
"But."  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"You didn't sound like you were finished. Go on, say what you wanted to say."  
  
"I don't want to start an argument, Colonel. I think it's better if I keep my opinion to myself."  
  
"You still think I should go and see Doc Fraiser, right?"  
  
Sam nodded. She hadn't said it, so she shouldn't lie to avoid her CO knowing. Besides, she had made it fairly clear that she wished he would see Janet. "Yes, Sir, I do."  
  
Jack nodded too, but didn't say anything. He still had no intentions of seeing Dr. Fraiser, no matter who suggested it. And even though he respected the fact that Carter wanted him to go - that she was concerned for him - he was still staying strong. He was not seeing a doctor. There was just no way.  
  
"Bye, Colonel," Sam mumbled and left, closing the door behind her. She knew he wouldn't see Janet and found it hard to understand how he refused to see the simple fact that he was indeed sick. If not, at the beginnings of becoming very sick and, without treatment of some kind, could end up extremely sick.  
  
Sam wasn't only worried that Colonel O'Neill was being stubborn; she was also worried that if his stubbornness made him too blind, he may end up with something very serious, like pneumonia. As much as the thought seemed prematurely dramatic, Sam was more worried that perhaps it wasn't so dramatic. That worried her more than anything else.  
  
@  
  
"Janet," Sam hollered as she entered the doctor's office.  
  
"No need to yell, Sam, I'm here," Janet responded to the Major's call.  
  
"Sorry, I didn't realise," Carter apologised quickly.  
  
"It's all right. What's wrong?" Fraiser asked, noticing her friend's sense of anxiety. "Can you do something for me, Janet?"  
  
"That depends on what it is; but I can't see why not."  
  
"Can you go and visit Colonel O'Neill?"  
  
Puzzled, Janet raised her eyebrows. "Why?"  
  
"Because he's sick, and he refuses to do anything about it," Sam answered.  
  
"Then I'm afraid there's not a lot I can do. It's up to Colonel O'Neill to do something about it if he's not well. Just as a matter of interest, though, what's wrong with him?"  
  
"I think he might contract pneumonia."  
  
"From yesterday?"  
  
"Yes. I mean, I feel kinda sick and I got dry pretty quickly. He was up there a lot longer than I was, and I don't think he got very dry."  
  
Janet mused about the situation. There really was nothing she could do if Colonel O'Neill didn't want anyone's help. If he refused to see that he was unwell, she couldn't force medical treatment on him. But, then again, if he was at risk of contracting pneumonia, perhaps she could neglect that rule and insist he spend a day or so in the Infirmary under observation. It wasn't really a complicated decision, but Janet didn't want to ruin all Kayla's hard work by forcing O'Neill back into hiding away from people. "Janet?" Sam broke the silence.  
  
"Ok," Fraiser said. "I'll go see him a bit later today."  
  
"Thank you, Janet."  
  
@  
  
Knocking on the door to Colonel O'Neill's quarters nearly four hours later, Janet tapped her foot on the ground while she waited for a reply. After two minutes of waiting, she knocked again. "Colonel O'Neill, it's Dr. Fraiser. Are you in there?" she said to the closed door.  
  
A passing airman told her he'd been in there all day and no one had seen him leave yet. This made Janet worry. Perhaps he was very sick. She knocked again, quicker and louder. "Colonel? Colonel, are you in there?" No reply. Janet turned the door handle and found it was unlocked. "Colonel?" she said as she opened the door and found the lights.  
  
To Janet's surprise, Colonel O'Neill was in fact in his room, in bed, asleep. Fraiser gasped quietly and felt embarrassed as O'Neill woke up and saw her standing in his doorway. "Doc?" he murmured as he rubbed his eyes and sat up.  
  
"Yes, I'm so sorry Colonel, I didn't think you were in here," Janet apologised. Jack rubbed his face some more and squinted to allow his eyes to adjust to the sudden light. Grasping his T-shirt from the floor, he put it on and stood up, only to nearly fall.  
  
"Colonel," Janet said as she jumped quickly to his aid.  
  
"I'm all right," Jack said, raising his hand to stop her. "Just waking up properly," he added as he sat back down on his bed.  
  
"Colonel, you don't look well at all," Fraiser stated as she saw his face in the light and noticed just how pale he was.  
  
"I'm fine," Jack said. "Just waking up."  
  
"No, I don't think so. You're as white as a ghost, and you obviously haven't got your balance. I'd like you to come down to the Infirmary with me and stay for a day or so for observation."  
  
"There's nothing wrong with me, Doc, just a little cold or something. I've been sick before, I'll be fine."  
  
"Colonel, I'm ordering you to come with me to the Infirmary."  
  
"And I'm staying here."  
  
"Colonel, please," Fraiser begged, but knew it wasn't going to help.  
  
"Doc, get out," Jack said finally and let himself fall back on his bed. Janet sighed and slowly left. She wanted to push the issue, but at the same time didn't want to make Colonel O'Neill do anything to make his condition worse. He was clearly unsteady on his feet, so his reflexes and balance were probably off because of whatever he was sick with. If Sam was right, and it could turn into pneumonia, then something needed to be done now, before he got really disorientated.  
  
But what could they do? If he refused to go near the Infirmary, short of sedating him and dragging him there, there was very little Janet could do. Really, she couldn't do anything. It was up to him whether or not he recognized how sick he was, or could get, and did something about it. It was up to Colonel O'Neill now. No one else.  
  
@  
  
On the surface, a half hour later, Jack walked into the rain. It was another miserable day. It had been like that for almost a week now. The weather was vastly getting worse and Jack was pleased. The worse the weather got, the better he liked it and the more he would sit in it.  
  
It was your fault, Jack. She blamed you. She shouldn't have had to suffer. If you'd just done something, none of it would have happened. None of this would have happened if it wasn't for you. It was your fault. All your fault. Your fault Jack, your fault!  
  
Jack ignored the nauseas feeling in his head and began to sprint down the slope of the mountain, until he could go no further. The rain pelted onto his body and tried to slow him down, but he wouldn't let it. The wind blew the trees so they whipped at him as he ran past them. Then he turned, and started back to the top again. The wind and rain had been so strong over the week that branches from trees were scattered over the ground like the garnish of a meal.  
  
The branches reached out from the ground to try and grab Jack's ankles as he ran by, but only just caught long enough to trip him. Bits of the tree branches scratched against his face and arms as he pushed himself back to his feet and continued running.  
  
The ground was muddy and slippery, and each time Jack fell, the tree branches scratched another line on his face or ripped another hole in his soaking wet clothing. But each time he fell, Jack ignored the sting of the cuts and scratches and pushed himself back onto his feet once again. His hands were almost completely brown from dirt, with the exception of blood from cuts.  
  
She was young, Jack. Think of Charlie. He was younger. But she suffered. For days and days she died before your eyes. Didn't do anything. Just sat and watched. Wondered when it was your turn again. What about her?! You killed her! It's your fault she died! Remember what you did to her! Sat and watched.did nothing.waiting, watching.did nothing.she died.could have saved her.did nothing.your fault.your fault.  
  
The words echoed again and again, the same things repeating over and over. Without even realising it was happening, Jack's foot once again got caught under a bowed branch and as he continued to sprint, almost in slow motion, his ankle twisted violently under the branch and he slammed to the ground. Mud splashed up around him and he yelled out in pain as he realised he'd either fractured or sprained his ankle.  
  
As he tried to move, he felt the buckled tree branch and looked to see it was almost completely circled around his ankle. He couldn't move it. It was broken. Reaching down to the branch, Jack yanked at it and grit his teeth as he finally got it off his ankle. Prying off his soaking wet jacket, he wrapped it tightly around the injured ankle and then - using the trees - he pulled himself up from the muddy, wet ground. Balancing on one foot for a moment, he then began to hobble back to the elevator to take him back to level 28, only using his broken ankle when completely necessary. This wasn't going to go down well with Dr. Fraiser.  
  
"Janet, have you seen Colonel O'Neill?" Sam asked as she entered the Infirmary, having just come from O'Neill's empty quarters.  
  
"No," Janet almost grunted at the thought of the stubborn Colonel. "I tried talking to him, like you asked. He's the most stubborn person I've ever met!"  
  
"I know, I know," Sam agreed. "What happened?"  
  
"He was in bed, asleep when I went to see him. I felt awful. Mind you, when he tried to get up and nearly fell, I didn't feel so bad. I told him I thought he should spend a day or so in the Infirmary under observation, but of course he didn't like that idea. So, after arguing a little, he promptly told me to get out and I did. He didn't have to tell me twice, I can tell you. I feel bad for having left, though. He isn't well, you were definitely right on the mark with that. I'm worried he may get Pneumonia. The way he was looking, it's quite possible if he doesn't do anything about it, he'll just get worse rather than better."  
  
"I know. I could see that just by looking," Sam said, following the doctor as she walked to her office and sat down behind her desk.  
  
"There's not a lot I can do, Sam," Fraiser said honestly.  
  
"Yeah. I know."  
  
Jack hobbled his way down the corridor toward the Infirmary, the pain flashing through his leg like electric sparks. As he entered the Infirmary, and noticed the lack of Dr. Fraiser in it, he continued to hobble over to a bed, when his ankle finally gave way. He'd been using it enough now, and it could no longer cope. As he leaned his weight on it to take another step, it crumbled and pain shot through his leg like an explosion. The yell of pain that escaped his mouth was unstoppable. He hit the floor with a thud, and didn't bother to try to get up this time. Janet and Sam heard the thump from the office and quickly went out to investigate the source. When they saw Jack lying on the floor, soaking wet, covered in mud and his face and hands smeared in blood, they rushed to him and knelt by his side. "Colonel? What happened? Where have you been?" Janet fired questions at him quickly. The quicker they were answered, the quicker she could establish just what was wrong.  
  
"Ankle," Jack said, "oh God, I think it's broken."  
  
"It's definitely broken, Sir," Sam affirmed.  
  
"How did you do this?" Fraiser demanded.  
  
"Running."  
  
"Where were you running?"  
  
"The surface."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Janet, I think you should do something about this," Sam intervened in the Doctor's interrogation.  
  
Sighing heavily with frustration, Janet got up and went to collect some bandages and antiseptic.  
  
When she was out of earshot, Sam whispered: "What were you doing, Colonel? The weather has been like this everyday, lately. You've already got something from being up there. Are you trying to get sick?"  
  
"I tripped, Carter," Jack said. "That's all."  
  
"Yes, but the fact that you even went to the surface doesn't make sense. It's been raining like that for days. You knew that, and you knew it'd still be raining today. What I don't understand, Sir, is why - "  
  
"Ok," Janet said, upon her return, "do you think you can stand for just a minute, Colonel? It'd be easier to do all this if you were on a bed."  
  
Jack didn't bother to respond, but with some support from Sam and the nearby bedside table, he managed to get across and onto a bed, where Janet began to bandage his broken ankle.  
  
"Once I've finished doing this, Colonel," Janet said sternly, "you will stay here, in this bed, until I say you are fit to leave it. Do you understand, or should I ask General Hammond to order you to stay here?" From Jack's lack of response, Janet knew she'd effectively made her point - however sarcastically.  
  
"Janet," a voice called as its owner followed, into the Infirmary.  
  
"Kayla," Fraiser responded, on a brighter note than previously used with Colonel O'Neill. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing," Kayla answered distractedly as she approached the bed containing the injured Colonel, her eyes never leaving him. "What happened here?"  
  
"The Colonel, here, went for a run on the surface this afternoon and broke his ankle. He is now bound to this bed, however unwillingly, until I say he can go." "It's pouring with rain up there, Colonel," Kayla said with concern. "You'll get sick."  
  
"I know," Jack said simply.  
  
"And yet you still went running up there?" Kayla asked incredulously.  
  
Although the continual and repetitive questions were beginning to get on his nerves and sound like nails scratching down a chalkboard, nonchalantly, Jack nodded.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Janet, Sam and Kayla all surveyed the man, before leaving him alone and moving their thoughts to Janet's office. "Why is he doing this to himself, Kayla?" Sam asked immediately after the door was closed.  
  
"I can't say for sure, just yet," Kayla mused, "but I think he may be punishing himself."  
  
"What for?" Janet queried.  
  
"For what he suffered through, for being weak, for any number of things. I'm not sure, it's just a theory."  
  
"Well, you had better find out just what is going on in his head, because if he keeps this up, he'll end up killing himself. From this second incident, I'm almost certain he'll contract pneumonia, and if he doesn't, he'll get damn close."  
  
"Let me talk with him. I'll see what I can find out. It has to be something. He wouldn't be doing this to himself without a reason."  
  
"He tripped," Sam said. "He didn't purposely fall."  
  
"No, but he went to the surface for a second time knowing it would be raining again," Janet said, "just like it has been every other day this week. He must have been running up and down the slope of the mountain, which - given the fact that he almost couldn't stand when I went to see him - would have taken considerable effort, when you also remember that the rain alone would make it difficult to run up there. So, he had quite a few factors stacked against him."  
  
"It's the second time he's been to the surface when it's been raining like that?" Kayla asked, not knowing about the incident a few days before.  
  
"Yes, the day he left your quarters and I showed you that piece of paper? You remember?" Sam asked.  
  
"Yes, yes, I remember," Kayla nodded, remembering the day.  
  
"That day, I found Colonel O'Neill sitting on the surface and it started to rain while I was there. I eventually went inside, but the Colonel stayed on the surface. He was up there quite a while before he came in, and I don't think he got properly dry, but I can't be sure about that."  
  
"Twice," Kayla murmured, more to herself than anyone else. "He's punishing himself for something. He's making himself feel pain for something. Making himself suffer. Let me talk with him a while. You two go about whatever, and I'll just have a friendly little chat with our Colonel. I'll let you know what I come up with later."  
  
With that, the trio each took different directions from Janet's office. Sam went back to her lab to pretend to work, Janet stayed in her office and tried to sift through her mounds of paperwork and Kayla went back out into the Infirmary and sat by Colonel O'Neill's bed. Jack looked at the Irish woman with a knowing expression. He knew she was there to extract information. Not this time, he thought. I know what everyone is trying to do, and I'm not playing dumb anymore.  
  
"You know why I'm here, Colonel," Kayla stated, rather than asked. She knew he knew. They'd talked enough for him to know she was always going to be doing her job when they spoke. She wasn't going to act as though she thought he didn't know. She wasn't going to pretend. Most doctors did that, and she knew he wasn't the type to go along with it. He was the type to quickly wise up to the act and hate it. She hated it too.  
  
"So why are you bothering?" Jack asked the obvious.  
  
"Because I know you're doing this to yourself for a reason. I know you're not just trying to draw attention to yourself. I know you're not pretending to have something wrong with you, because I know that isn't you. I know you're hurting, and I know you're trying to prove something to yourself. All I don't know, is what."  
  
"For someone I haven't known very long, you sure know a hell of a lot about me. More than I know, even. And I thought you were just a regular shrink, here to tell me to lay down on a bed, think back to where the problems started and talk through my tragic life while you pretend to listen as you play naughts and crosses on your notepad and charge me five or six hundred dollars an hour."  
  
"Well, I guess you don't know me very well then, do you, Colonel?" Kayla said.  
  
"Guess not," Jack replied sarcastically.  
  
"Let me clear some things up for you, then. Number one; you're already lying down. Number two; if you have any problems, I don't want you to tell me when they started, because it's my job to find that out. Number three; I don't want you to talk through your tragic life, because I know that won't help. Number four, I don't pretend to listen to anyone, I either listen or I don't, and I do not play games. And number five; I don't charge five or six hundred dollars an hour. In fact, I don't charge anything. The Pentagon pays me, and even if they didn't, I wouldn't charge absurd amounts like that."  
  
With a nod, Kayla got up and left. Let him think that over for a night, she thought. Jack watched her go then looked at his watch. 16:28. That couldn't be the right time. It had stopped. Damn thing is supposed to be waterproof, Jack thought begrudgingly.  
  
"Doc, what's the time?" he asked as Doctor Fraiser came out from her office. Narrowing her eyes slightly at the injured Colonel, Fraiser checked her watch.  
  
"Nearly 22:00," she answered.  
  
Jack was surprised. His watch must have stopped before he went to the surface. Maybe the other day. It didn't matter. It was then he realised, though, just how tired he was. He hadn't been sleeping properly when Dr. Fraiser came to see him in his quarters earlier in the day. He wasn't sure if he'd been sleeping at all. Just trying to ignore the nausea. Before he even realised, Jack was drifting off to sleep and within minutes, was asleep.  
  
As Janet passed by his bed again, on her way back to her office, she saw O'Neill was sleeping and found a smile on her face. She was glad he was finally resting and especially glad he was somewhere she could keep an eye on him. She could see the sickness in his face and hoped it didn't get too bad, but was afraid it might. Pulling the blankets up over him, Janet whispered: "Sleep well, Colonel." 


	9. Revelations

Part 7 - Revelations  
  
The next morning, when Jack woke up, Janet knew he was suffering. The fairly minor sickness from the previous day had - from another day in the rain - worsened. It was no longer a cold. Fraiser could see it in his eyes. He had pneumonia, just like she and Sam had predicted. Only this time, Janet hated to admit she'd been right. She wished she'd been wrong. Somehow, though, she'd known.  
  
"How are you feeling this morning, Colonel?" Janet asked as she briskly walked to Jack's bedside, knowing she probably shouldn't have asked that question so cheerfully when she could clearly see he wasn't feeling well.  
  
"Rub it in," Jack said hoarsely.  
  
"Not at all, Sir. Just being a doctor. I can see you're not well. I'll take a blood sample, and do some regular checks first, then see what results I get," Janet explained as she took Jack's pulse and then prepared a needle to take a blood sample. "Arm thanks, Colonel," she smiled as he stretched his arm out for her.  
  
"I know you all love this part," Jack said as Janet took two syringes full of his blood.  
  
"What's that, Colonel?" Fraiser asked with a smirk.  
  
"Taking blood. I'm sure you're all vampires and get some sadistic pleasure from taking people's blood."  
  
"Oh, of course. It's part of the job description, Colonel. No wonder you never made it as a doctor," Janet smiled as she labeled Jack's blood sample to send off to be tested.  
  
"They never told me that part," Jack called after her, just catching her chuckle as she left.  
  
A few moments after Janet left, Kayla arrived. "Good morning, Colonel," she said brightly. She wasn't one to remember any particular bad mood she was in and stay in it just because she'd started it. No, the past day was forgotten. 'Tomorrow's a new day,' her dad had always said, and she'd always remembered. Almost always.  
  
"If you say so," Jack grumbled, feeling the full brunt of the sickness now. He had no distraction from the horrible, sick pounding feeling in his head in the Infirmary. No way to forget about the terrible knot in his stomach.  
  
"How are you feeling?" Kayla asked.  
  
"Peachy," Jack answered sarcastically.  
  
"Feel like talking to me about what we discussed yesterday?"  
  
"How much you know about me, or how much the Pentagon pays you to come out here and pretend to care?"  
  
"You think that, don't you?"  
  
"Think what?"  
  
"You believe I am only here because I am paid to be. You think I'm one of those cartoon doctors who answers their psycho patients with patronizing quips and mutters sarcastically behind their blissfully unaware backs, don't you?"  
  
"Well, as a matter of fact, yeah. To be perfectly honest with you, Dr. I- know-everything-about-everyone, I do think that. I think you're paid to come here, sit down and act as though you understand me and my life, pretend to be a caring, understanding, honest and good-natured long lost friend or relative that I haven't seen in years, while you silently wish you had a gun, but not to shoot me with. And no matter how much money you are, or aren't paid, I think you should go find some other psycho to pretend to care about, cos right now, I'm just not in a really forthcoming mood."  
  
A silence fell on the pair. Kayla was, to say the least, surprised. She had thought Colonel O'Neill was beginning to trust her, and felt angry with herself for not noticing sooner that he in fact couldn't stand the thought of seeing her. Jack was waiting for Kayla to get up and leave. The stinging, burning, raging and aching pain he felt over nearly every inch of his body was making him irritable, and he made it all that much worse by being angry at himself for letting his pain do that to him. He felt angry with himself, not Kayla. He felt angry with himself for everything that had happened and, although he was only now beginning to finally realise it, had been taking his anger out on Kayla. It wasn't her fault, and he didn't really feel anything of what he'd said to her. Everything he said was a twisted representation of what he really felt about himself. All the anger and doubt, was directed at himself. And the fact that nearly everything Kayla said was the truth, or very close to it, made Jack even more angry, because he wanted to hide everything he felt. He didn't want anyone to know and the fact that she did made him angry at himself for not hiding it well enough.  
  
"When I was a teenager," Kayla broke the silence quietly, "just after I finished high school, my parents were killed at a shopping mall massacre. It was horrible; nearly forty people were killed."  
  
"I'm sorry," Jack murmured.  
  
Kayla nodded. "I saw it on the news before I even knew my parents were there. But, when I heard the news story and I heard the news reporter's voice, something.somehow I knew it was something that was going to affect me. I saw some pictures of the scene, as the man with the gun was being taken away by the police. I saw some shops, behind where they were standing, and that's when I knew.  
  
The day before, I'd had a fight with my parents. I wanted to go to a party that night, but they wanted me to go to a family function with them. It was my uncle's birthday party. We had an argument, and I went to the party without speaking to my parents. They were upset with me, but not because I went. They were upset because I didn't tell them what I was going to do; I just went.  
  
The next morning, when I got up there was a note on the kitchen table for me. They'd gone shopping without me. I was supposed to be going with them, looking for a new sofa. Sounds silly, but we always liked doing stuff like that as a family. We always went into all the different stores and sat on all the chairs and laughed about the colors and designs and pretended that we wanted to buy things just to see how low we could get the salesmen to drop the prices for us. It used to be great.but they went without me. I was angry with them for leaving without even telling me, of course. I slammed doors all day and dropped things that wouldn't break just to make noise, because I was so angry. Even when it was late in the afternoon and they still hadn't come back, I wasn't worried because I was too busy being mad.  
  
When I saw the story on the news, I realised. I saw the furniture store we always liked, because of all the interesting stuff in it, and I knew. I knew they would've been there, and I knew, before I even got the call, I knew.  
  
Of course, now, I realise there would've been nothing I could have done to make it any different. Nothing I could have said that would have saved them, but I still wished I'd been there. I blamed myself. I knew it was my fault. If only I hadn't gone to that stupid party. If only I'd told them what I was going to do the night before. If only I'd said sorry for going. If only, if only.  
  
I sat around for weeks, trying to figure out everything I'd done wrong. I had a list. I wrote down all the things I knew I'd done that would surely have made a difference to what happened that day. May 12th. I'll never forget that day.  
  
After the funeral, after everyone cried and said how awful it was and how sorry they felt for me, being left without parents, I realised it wasn't my fault. It took me months to realise it and more months to accept it, but it wasn't my fault. I know now, there's nothing in the world I could have done to change what happened. Even if I'd been there with them that day, probably the only thing I could have done would have been to get killed too. That wouldn't have solved anything. Wouldn't have made anything better. Just would've been three people dead, instead of two. I feel the loss I felt that day, even now, but not on the same level, because now I see what I couldn't see, then. I see the truth."  
  
For the first time in weeks, Jack recognized the feelings Kayla spoke of. She didn't sound like a patronizing voice in his head, telling him to move on and forget all about the past few months. Telling him that he was being stupid and that he shouldn't be holding onto these feelings anymore. That it was his fault, there was nothing he could do, so he should forget it. He didn't feel like that, now. Not after listening to Kayla. She sounded like a real person, not a doctor. And this time, instead of sounding like the typical TV stereotype doctor, making up a situation to sound like they knew how their patient felt, Jack knew she wasn't doing it for his benefit. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure she wasn't doing it for her own benefit.  
  
"I lost my son a few years ago," Jack murmured.  
  
"I'm very sorry," Kayla said.  
  
"So am I."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"He shot himself," Jack said, not surprised when Kayla gasped. "With my gun. My wife blamed me. I blamed myself, and I still do. I'll never forgive myself. Just like I'll never forgive myself for.for M."  
  
"It wasn't your fault, Colonel," Kayla reinforced. "You need to let yourself see the truth, just like I did. The truth is; I couldn't have done anything to save my parents, just like you couldn't have done anything to save Myra. You couldn't have saved her, Colonel."  
  
Jack shook his head. He just wasn't ready to accept that, yet. Not yet. Something wouldn't let him believe that was true, yet. Kayla frowned. She could see in his eyes, that Jack didn't believe she was right, yet. She could see he was uncomfortable with accepting that he wasn't at fault. Perhaps he was used to feeling that way - feeling as though it was something he did wrong. Perhaps it was his way of coping.  
  
After another few minutes of silence, Jack was suddenly incredibly aware of the fact that he was breathing loudly. Almost as though he was out of breath and searching for the air. Reaching out for it, but still not getting enough. Kayla saw the sudden, almost panic in his eyes as he began to gasp for air. His face changed, the colour left it. His skin was suddenly almost transparent, and his eyes were wide. Something serious was wrong, Kayla decided, without having any medical proof. She quickly went to find Janet.  
  
"Janet," Kayla said taking her friend by the arm, "quickly."  
  
"What's." Janet tried to speak as Kayla dragged her by the arm to the Infirmary. When she saw Colonel O'Neill's colorless face and the terror in his eyes as he gasped for breath, she understood. "What happened?" she asked immediately, rushing to the Colonel's side and taking his pulse.  
  
"Nothing," Kayla replied, watching on worriedly as O'Neill began coughing violently. "I was talking to him and then I noticed he was breathing very heavily, and his face lost all its colour, so I came to find you."  
  
"Nurse!" Janet shouted at the passing nurse. "He needs oxygen, get the mask." The young nurse nodded and quickly got the oxygen mask set up and handed it to Fraiser.  
  
The doctor took it. "Colonel, once this is over your face, just slowly begin to breathe in. It will take a moment, but you'll begin to feel better," she explained as she placed the mask over Jack's face and moved his right hand to hold it in place. "Breathe in slowly, Colonel. That's right. Keep breathing."  
  
Jack gratefully sucked in gulps of air from the oxygen mask. His lungs craved more and more air, but no matter how much he breathed, it didn't seem to be enough - they still needed more. Jack's lips trembled as he swallowed more and more air. "Slowly, Colonel," Janet repeated, noticing how desperately Jack was breathing, like the air was going to get away from him if he didn't. "No hurry, Colonel, the air isn't going anywhere as long as you leave the mask on."  
  
But it didn't matter how hard he tried, Jack just had to keep on rushing in more air. His lungs seemed to choke on the lack of air, but he was breathing it in as fast as he could. Then, Jack began to feel chills. His skin was ice cold. Not only were his lips trembling, but now, his whole body was. This sudden coldness made him lose his fast breathing rhythm. His lungs began to choke, and he so did he. He was breathing, but the air wasn't getting past his throat, it was just dying once it entered his mouth. "Janet, he's choking!" Kayla exclaimed in shock.  
  
"There's nothing I can do," Janet said helplessly, taking note of the heart monitor and checking Jack's pulse again. "That's what the mask is for, but it's just not helping the way it should. His lungs are shutting off, and not letting the air get to them." Before Janet had the chance to ask Jack if that was how he felt, he lost consciousness. "This isn't one of the common strains of pneumonia," Fraiser stated. "His symptoms are too acute and too soon. Normally the early symptoms of any pneumonia are fairly standard: fever, cough, sore throat, headaches, weakness. The most common kinds of pneumonia don't display serious symptoms like this at all, most of the time. The fever is common, and the cough, but not this. Chills are a sign of a more serious kind and this serious lack of air, is definitely a bad sign."  
  
"Janet, speak English," Kayla said. "Tell me what you're talking about. What are you trying to say?"  
  
"I'm saying that, to me, this looks to be one of the more serious strains of pneumonia. Not just your standard kind."  
  
"Serious. Explain serious."  
  
"Serious, to a doctor, means fatal."  
  
Kayla was silent for a moment. "Do you mean fatal as in, it could kill him?"  
  
"Yes. I'm afraid that's exactly what I mean."  
  
***  
  
My lungs were burning again. I couldn't remember if they'd actually stopped. The girl had been taken away. She was so young. Her face was badly bruised and covered in gashes. She didn't deserve any of it.  
  
The guards had been beating her. They were laughing. They thought it was all so damned funny! I couldn't stand it. Then they'd started on me. I made them stop. I made them leave her alone, then they started on me again. Something snapped. I don't know what it was. I heard the crack, and I felt it. In my leg. I couldn't stand up anymore. I fell to the ground and they started laying into me. My leg was throbbing and my head was pounding. Every inch of my body ached, throbbed, stung, bled or did something painful.  
  
I tried to scream, but nothing came out of my mouth. Some blood, but no words. I tried to get up or to scramble away, but I had nowhere to go. There was nowhere I could go. I wanted to call out for help, but besides the fact that my voice wouldn't work, I had no one to call. There was no one here that could help me. If only I hadn't made Carter leave.  
  
She managed to get away. The girl. She ran. She would pay for that, later, but she got away for now and I was grateful. I drifted away - I don't know where to - as the guards kicked me. I was somewhere cold; I didn't drift away to somewhere nice - somewhere I wanted to be. It was cold, and I could hear the guards laughter. I could hear them sneering and hissing things at me. Their voices were like echoes, going around and around in my brain as the pain slowly blurred my consciousness until I lost it all together.  
  
***  
  
"Janet, are you.Colonel," Sam said as she entered the Infirmary, stopping her sentence as she saw her CO's gaunt, sweaty and colourless face, half hidden by the oxygen mask.  
  
"He's unconscious," Kayla informed the Major from her chair at Jack's bedside. "How long has he been like that?" Sam asked, more concerned by his appearance, than his unconsciousness.  
  
"Almost an hour," Kayla replied, nodding to the empty chair beside her. "Sit down."  
  
"What did Janet say was wrong with him?"  
  
"I said I think he's got one of the more uncommon kinds of pneumonia," Janet said as she exited her office, a folder of papers under her arm. "His symptoms don't point to the more common strains. I thought it was Mycoplasma Pneumonia; only his symptoms are far too acute for that. His cough is dry, and inconsistent."  
  
"Ok, Janet," Sam said, raising her hands, "let me speak English for a moment. Are you saying this is a good thing, or a bad thing?"  
  
"No, I'm definitely not saying it's good," Fraiser clarified, getting a chair. "I'm just trying to eliminate the different possibilities, and so far, I've ruled out all the common kinds of pneumonia."  
  
"So you think he's got a serious kind?" Sam asked just to make sure.  
  
"It looks that way, yes," Janet said, taking out a few papers. "He has a serious lung infection. Fluid on the lungs is dangerous, and the fact that he was having such a hard time breathing before indicates just how serious this is. I'll need to check a few things first, but if we don't get this fast, it will only get worse and I won't lie; he could die."  
  
Sam licked her lips, frowning and looked over at her CO. Come on, Colonel, she thought desperately; trying to channel her thoughts through to him somehow, don't give up now. You've made it through worse than this; you can't give up now. Please.  
  
"I wouldn't mind if someone stayed with him all the time," Janet continued. "I think it will be better to keep him awake as long as possible. I know he needs rest, but I'll feel more secure knowing he's with us than if he drifts off to sleep or falls unconscious again. It's just a precaution."  
  
"I'll stay," Sam said firmly, looking at Kayla.  
  
"Ok," Kayla smiled. "Let me know when he wakes up. I'd like to keep talking to him, if possible."  
  
Sam nodded distractedly. "If you need me, I'll be around," Janet said as she left.  
  
Once again, Sam nodded distractedly, but hadn't really heard what either doctor had said. After a while, seeing no one else was around, Sam leaned forward and rested her hand on her CO's. "I don't know if you can hear me, Sir," she said softly, "but doctor's always say patients can hear people, even when they're unconscious, so that's good enough for me. I just want you to know, that you can't die. Even if you want to. I don't understand what you're feeling, or how it's affecting you, or why it's making you do what you're doing, but I do understand that it's not just affecting you. If you go on like this, doing this to yourself, it won't just hurt you. It'll hurt me too. I don't know if that makes any difference to how you feel, but I know that I care about you.  
  
Colonel, you once said you cared about me a lot more than you were supposed to. The only thing I didn't say to you that day was the only thing I was thinking the whole time. I care about you a lot more than I'm supposed to, too." When Sam looked up from her hand, resting on her Colonel's, she saw his eyes open, looking at her. She was suddenly glued to her chair, and confused as to what she should do. Had he heard everything she'd said? Had she wanted him to? Was she glad he'd heard? Why was she worrying?  
  
"Colonel," Sam almost sighed, "how do you feel?"  
  
Jack took the oxygen mask off his face and tried to obliterate the nausea in his head. "Been better," he croaked, his throat dry and sore. "Been worse, too." Sam frowned inside. She wished he would stop doing that. Stop comparing the fact that he'd almost been tortured to death with things that happened in the present. Stop making things seem insignificant by remembering the fact that he'd been worse off, before. "I'll get Dr. Fraiser," Sam said, to stop herself saying everything she'd just thought.  
  
"No," Jack said, trying to grab Sam's hand as it slid away from his. She felt the contact, and stopped.  
  
"There's nothing she can do," O'Neill said weakly.  
  
Carter sat down. "With all due respect, Sir, that's not true," she told him. "Yes it is, Carter. If I'm going to die, there's nothing anyone can do."  
  
Sam was taken aback by this sudden statement. If he was going to die? Who said anything about him dying? Janet said if it wasn't treated early, there was that possibility, but it was still early. It certainly wasn't a near threat, or maybe that was just Sam's defence mechanism against the scary possibility. "Colonel, you're not going to die."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"Well, Sir, I don't know, but Janet's working on a few things. She'll be done soon, and then she'll have a better idea of what type of pneumonia you have, and it will be easier to treat."  
  
"You don't know that, Carter. If I die, I die," Jack said, his voice getting weaker. "I deserve it," he added at a whisper.  
  
Sam was suddenly aware that it sounded as though her CO wanted to die. He was sentencing himself to death without even having a full understanding of what was wrong with him, and he sounded very sure of himself. If I die, I die. I deserve it. "Colonel!" Sam said sharply. "That's not true."  
  
"You don't understand, Carter," Jack murmured. "You can't understand. You didn't see what I saw. You didn't.you didn't hear her screaming. You didn't watch her suffer." Sam tried to stop herself frowning, but her brow creased in sympathy without her realising. How could he go on like this?  
  
"Who?"  
  
"She died because I didn't do anything to help her. She screamed and cried and begged for help while they tortured her and I didn't do anything."  
  
"Who, Colonel? Who are you talking about?"  
  
"Myra."  
  
Sam was initially surprised. She remembered that name. That was the young girl she'd met working in the fields. She died. Sam hadn't known her well, and yet she felt great sadness knowing that poor young girl had died. But even if her CO had watched her die, and had tried to help, he couldn't have done anything to help her. No matter what he did, Sam knew nothing would have made any difference. "It wasn't your fault, Colonel," Sam said meaningfully. If this was the biggest trouble for him, he needed to know it wasn't his fault. Sam didn't know the details, but she knew just from her brief experience of that planet, that it could not have been her CO's fault Myra died.  
  
"How can you know that, Carter? I was there! I didn't help her!" Jack exclaimed, his obvious anger toward himself evident in his colourless face.  
  
"Colonel, I was there too. Maybe not as long as you, and I know I didn't suffer like you did, but I know how their system works. It's pretty obvious. If they wanted someone dead, nothing anyone could do would stop them. No matter what happened, Sir, it was not your fault Myra died."  
  
"She was so young. She suffered so much for someone so young."  
  
"I understand, Colonel. I know how you feel. I feel sad knowing she died too, but I know it wasn't your fault. No matter what you could have done, they would have killed her. It wouldn't have mattered if you'd tried to kill them all; they still would have made sure they killed her. I know, somewhere inside, that you know that too, Colonel."  
  
Jack couldn't say anything to that. He wasn't sure if he knew or not, but the worst thing was, if he did know, he still didn't want to believe it was true. The anger he had towards himself, for so many things, wanted him to stay that way. It wanted him to stay angry at himself, and didn't want him to know the truth. Didn't want him to see that he really wasn't at fault. So many different things proved it wasn't his fault - he couldn't have done anything. This anger was bubbling inside him so dangerously, that he wouldn't allow himself to push it away, even though he knew he could.  
  
Sam watched her CO's distant gaze, almost able to see his thoughts through his blank eyes. Why was he continuing to punish himself this way? She knew he knew it wasn't his fault. Somewhere inside his stubborn mind, he had to know that. Surely, he had to be able to see that. But then, why was he still making himself suffer? Why was he doing this to himself? Sam had to admit that she just didn't understand. She couldn't fathom how he could continue to blame himself for something that clearly wasn't, and could never be, his fault.  
  
"Colonel, I don't know how you feel this about yourself," Sam confessed, her voice quiet and unthreatening. "I've tried and tried, but I still don't understand it. It's frustrating, because you know I always figure things out," she laughed softly, trying to lighten the mood. "But I can't figure this out. No matter how hard I try. The thing is, Sir, I don't want to figure it out, really. I just want to help you."  
  
Jack pushed his thoughts aside and took the blank look from his eyes by looking at his second in command. Something about her expression made him want to talk to her. She was so concerned, so interested in everything going on for him. She was always there, her caring face and concerned eyes. For some reason, Jack was only beginning to realise all of this, now. Suddenly he could see her for more than just her logic and science. Somehow, now, in his eyes, she was more than just the person she used to be, although she hadn't changed at all.  
  
Jack wanted to say so many things to her then. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was for sending her back. How he wished she'd been there with him, although not having to suffer the way he had. How helpless he'd felt as he watched Myra dying, day after day, in front of him. How he'd thought of her then. How he'd missed her. How pathetic he felt now and how sick. Sick in more ways than one.  
  
But for all the things Jack wanted to say, he said nothing. None of the words made it out of his mouth. All died before getting to chance to be heard.  
  
Sam knew he wanted to say things. She saw, deep in his eyes, that he needed to say a lot to her. Maybe he didn't even need to say things to her, but Sam knew he wanted to. She could feel it, just by being near him. So many things were in his mind in those silent moments and she knew he wanted to say a lot to her. Although neither Colonel, nor Major, managed to say anything to each other, they both knew what the other wanted. Sam knew Jack wanted to tell her things - things he'd never told anyone else before - but he couldn't. Somehow, he couldn't. But he knew Sam knew he wanted to. He saw, just by her face, that she knew. A silent agreement met, Sam smiled. How they'd always been able to communicate that way - without needing to speak - had always amazed her. She didn't understand it anymore than Jack did, but they both appreciated the mutual understanding of one another.  
  
"I'll see you later, Colonel," Sam said softly, almost a whisper, as she brushed her hand over his and left.  
  
Jack didn't say anything to her, but felt strangely contented after having listened to his second in command, for once. Janet peeked her head out of her office and saw his expressionless face. He didn't look sad, angry or pained anymore. Even though he didn't look overjoyed either, she could see there was a satisfaction in his eyes. There was an air about him, now, that was different from before.  
  
Janet smiled, pleased to see him this way. "Whatever you said, Sam, it worked," she whispered to herself. 


	10. Divide And Conquer

Part 8 - Divide and Conquer  
  
The next day, Kayla returned to the Infirmary. Unfortunately, to her dismay, she would not be speaking with Colonel O'Neill this day. "Janet? What's going on?" she asked quickly.  
  
Fraiser, shouting orders to her nurses, didn't hear her friend at first. "Janet, what's going on?" Kayla repeated.  
  
The doctor caught a faint voice under the buzzing defibrillator and shouts of her own voice and looked up. "Kayla," she almost sighed. "His condition deteriorated overnight. I've never seen pneumonia this serious. It happened so fast. Too fast."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"He woke up during the night," Janet began, finally stabilizing the heart monitor and leaving the nurses with orders to keep a close watch on him. "He was delusional. It was awful. He asked after Azyalae. Does that name mean anything? You can't tell me, I know. He cried out for her, saying he was sorry."  
  
"The doctor," Kayla murmured to herself, as she remembered Jack mentioning Azyalae and the fact that she and Myra were sisters. How upset the doctor had been when she found out her sister was dead, and how she'd initially blamed Jack for Myra's death.  
  
"I'm going to treat this like any other pneumonia, but increase the normal dosages and see how he responds," Janet thought aloud.  
  
"Will that do anything if this is so serious?" Kayla asked, very concerned.  
  
"I don't know," Fraiser admitted. "I just don't know. I'll have to do that and see what happens. If there's no change within forty-eight hours, I'll have to call in an expert, or he might not make it."  
  
The seriousness in her friend's voice worried Kayla. Not only was the prospect scary, but forty-eight hours wasn't very long. If he could die in that short amount of time, Kayla hoped that this treatment of Janet's worked. If it didn't.  
  
@  
  
Jack woke up the next day dazed and in pain. He wasn't sure he remembered the previous day or not. It was a dream. All that pain and then the screaming in the night. Surely that hadn't happened?  
  
Then suddenly Jack was frightfully aware that it hadn't been a dream at all. Nor had it been a nightmare. He'd really felt that pain, and it hadn't all been physical either. Not only had the pain flared deep in his chest, like a flame blowing in the wind, but it had done the same in his mind. He'd been so confused and delusional, he remembered calling out to Azyalae. Saying he was sorry Myra died. Wishing it hadn't happened and needing to apologise to her just once more. But it wasn't what he needed at all. He needed desperately to move on from it all.  
  
In his quiet corner, deep inside himself, Jack realised he had to go on with his life now. He had to deal with what happened as best he could, not bring it up again and move on with the present. There were friends around him everyday. These people around him, they cared. They were the only family he had and he needed them. Perhaps they needed him too, he wasn't sure, but he realised they were the most important thing in his life. The people around him were always there; always understanding and most importantly, they didn't judge him. He was as much a family member to them, as they all were to him.  
  
This sudden enlightenment and understanding of the issues he'd been dealing with for the past who-knows-how-long made Jack feel lighter. Suddenly, he wasn't weighed down by his memories. He felt relieved, and it felt good. But as much as the self-discovery had helped Jack, and maybe even healed him of a few demons, he knew he still couldn't properly talk about everything else that happened on P4C 237. He'd talked about a lot of it, granted, and even been grateful for doing it, to a point, but he couldn't talk about it anymore.  
  
If he was going to let this help, make things better for him, then he vowed to himself, here and now, that he wouldn't talk about any more of it. Ever. "Colonel," Janet said, smiling, "you're looking better this morning."  
  
"Don't feel it, really," Jack said honestly.  
  
"Well, give it a little bit longer. Your system needs time to heal, and pneumonia of this strength will be with you a while, although not this bad. The remainders of it can last for months, too, so remember. Your strength and sometimes maybe even your balance will be off for a while. You'll probably find you're not back to your full strength for quite a few months. I know that sounds a long time, but just remember that pneumonia is prone to relapsing and usually the relapses are worse than the original case. I know I'm probably making all this sound very awful, but I'm being honest with you, Colonel. There's no point lying and saying you'll be fine, back to normal, in a few days; because you won't."  
  
"Ok, Doc. I think I got it."  
  
"Sorry, I didn't mean to sound like a school teacher giving you a lecture. I just want to make sure you know what you're up for in the months to come." Fraiser smiled and got a chair. "I know these few months haven't been easy for you, Colonel, but we're all here for you. You've probably heard that a million times, but it's true."  
  
"Thanks, Doc," Jack said, allowing himself to smile for the first time in what seemed like forever.  
  
"Well, I'm only telling you what you already know," Janet said with another smile, getting up and taking note of the heart monitor's readings. Steady. "I wanted to die," Jack said suddenly and matter-of-factly, not really knowing why he was telling Dr. Fraiser this.  
  
Fraiser stopped and looked at O'Neill's face to see he was quite serious. "Why?" she asked calmly, sitting down again.  
  
"Because I thought it was better if I did. I thought it would make up for.for what." Jack stopped. He couldn't talk about it all. Not again. He'd told the story enough. It had gone around in his head a million times, and he couldn't put himself through it all again. By continuing to remember, he was putting himself back in the torture chamber, back with the tortured screams of Myra slicing parts of his sanity away.  
  
Janet saw the agony in his face. She knew he stopped himself for a reason and although she didn't know what the reason was, she was willing to let it go. Pursuing it wouldn't help and he probably had had enough of people telling him that he should talk about things. He'd told Kayla what he wanted, obviously, and he'd talked about what he thought he had to. That was enough for Janet.  
  
"Did.in the night, the other day, did I.?" Jack tried to ask about whether or not he really did scream. He knew he had, but somehow he needed confirmation from the one person he knew would have been there. The question was harder to ask than he'd thought.  
  
"No one else heard, Colonel," Janet said gently, knowing it was something he would be concerned about. She saw the relief on his face, and the gratitude toward her. Somehow he knew she tried hard to calm him that night, and he was grateful to her for that.  
  
"You didn't.?"  
  
"Only Kayla. She had to know; she came in here when your heart stopped. She was concerned and I told her. She's the only one, Colonel. No one else." Janet could see the initial panic in his eyes at the mention someone else knew, but knowing it was only Kayla calmed him.  
  
The showing of weakness was something Jack hated. Not by others, but by himself. He had huge expectations of himself and the way people should see him. If he showed things he wasn't supposed to, he let himself down. His expectations weren't met, and he punished himself. This pneumonia was a result of his punishment. The most severe.  
  
"When can I go?" Jack asked, knowing it was a risky question to be asking Dr. Fraiser when the whole reason he was in the Infirmary, worrying her to bits, was because of his punishment of himself.  
  
"Give it a few more days, Jack," Janet said firmly, feeling a strange satisfaction by using his name. "If you're back here within the next six months, don't expect a warm welcome, either. Unless you happen to get shot on base or hit by a speeding bus, I won't accept many other illnesses putting you in here that aren't self-inflicted. If you want to start punishing yourself again, make sure you don't let me find out about it. Ok?" Janet half-smiled and watched Jack's face mimic hers.  
  
"Whatever you say, Doc," he said nonchalantly.  
  
@  
  
After a few more days in the Infirmary turned into a week, Janet was finally satisfied that Jack could safely leave without collapsing unexpectedly or frightening anyone by his pale face. Not that he'd gained much color, but he looked a little more alive than before. Janet also tightly strapped Jack's still injured ankle and told him to be careful on it, and stay off it as much as he could. The crutches she gave him she knew wouldn't be overly used, but she made sure she told him a few times that he should use them as much as possible.  
  
Sam, Daniel, Teal'c and Kayla all visited him in the days before he was released, and he felt pleased that they were more comfortable around him again now, like they used to be before. Jack's self-discovery had helped him an incredible amount. More than he initially realised. He felt confident and easy around his friends once again, and he felt as though his old self was returning to him. He was beginning to make sarcastic remarks once again, and laughing. He hadn't laughed or smiled in so long. Hadn't had fun. Hadn't remembered what fun was like, how good it felt to be with your friends, having a good time, laughing and joking and knowing you were going to be able to do the same thing again another day. Not wondering if you were about to take your last breath because you'd just had all the rest tortured out of you.  
  
Janet, Daniel, Teal'c, and especially Kayla and Sam noticed the change in Jack. He seemed free now. A lot more relaxed and at ease than before. He actually talked, made conversation and joked with them. He became the person he used to be, again. He made comments on things that made everyone laugh, or at least smile. Things were finally starting to get back on track.  
  
The day Jack was released from the folds of the Infirmary bed he had been bound to for what felt like endless days, his friends threw him a party.  
  
Ushering him to the Mess Hall on his crutches as though he might make a run for it, they pushed the doors open and all turned to see his face as he saw the decorations and huge Welcome back, Jack! banner they'd hung from the ceiling. He smiled immediately and they were all pleased to see that reaction.  
  
"Good to have you back, Jack!" Daniel exclaimed, giving his friend's back a pat. Jack was speechless. He hadn't felt so overwhelmed and.and happy for so long. This was amazing and it proved just how much his friends cared about him. It made everything else on his mind drift away as Daniel and the others carefully pushed him into the mess hall and someone shoved a bottle of beer into his hand. The whole thing was completely overwhelming. He didn't know what to do, what to say, where to start.  
  
Someone forced a party hat onto his head, like it was a birthday party, and before he knew it, everyone had party hats on. They all looked ridiculous with red, yellow and blue and green party hats on their heads, but everyone was so happy, and having such a good time, that it didn't matter. No one cared. God, Jack thought after taking a proper look around the room for the first time, half the base must be here!  
  
"C'mon, Jack!" Daniel hollered over all the loud voices and music as he pushed through a group of people, his arms outstretched. "What are you doing standing over here on your own? This is your party!" the archaeologist continued jovially. "Oh, doesn't that mean I can cry if I want to?" Jack said with a light smile on his face.  
  
"Yeah, well, in theory," Jackson cocked his head from side to side then shrugged. "Doesn't apply now! C'mon! Socialize!" He demanded.  
  
With a shrug, Jack let himself be dragged off by his friend to mingle with some people he felt he hadn't seen in years. They all seemed so happy to see him, like he'd been away on an extended holiday. They all patted him on the shoulders like he was a little kid and said how glad they were he was back, even though he'd been back at the SGC for a while now. They all saw the crutches and asked how his ankle was going, and how long it would be before he could go back to normal duty with SG-1.  
  
The same process repeated several times and Daniel and Teal'c dragged Jack around the mess hall until he was sure his arms were going to fall off from holding himself up with the crutches. After several hours of non-stop noise, meet and greets, and drinking, the people started to slowly return to their regular routines. By the time another hour was up, only Daniel, Teal'c, Dr. Fraiser, Kayla and Sam were left.  
  
After remembering Janet's reminders, Jack understood why he felt so tired and drained of energy. She had said it would be like that for a while, until he got his full strength back. Clearly, he was a long way from that happening. When the mess hall was nearly empty, Jack realised that he'd hardly seen Sam the whole time. She'd been milling around, her face gliding by occasionally with some others, but he hadn't talked to her at all. Hadn't thanked her. He needed to do that.  
  
After finally pulling away from Daniel's ever-watchful eye, Jack found Sam sitting alone by the back wall of the hall, a half empty glass of champagne in her hand and thought in her eyes. "Hey Carter," Jack said casually as he pulled up a chair next to her.  
  
Sam lifted her eyes and managed to smile, although her mind was somewhere else in the moment. "Hi Colonel," she said quietly. "Enjoy your party?"  
  
"My party," Jack murmured. "Yeah."  
  
"No?"  
  
"Oh, no. It's great. I didn't realise I actually knew this many people. Who organised all this, anyway?"  
  
"Oh, we all did, Sir," Sam replied, but Jack knew she had on her own.  
  
"Well, you all didn't have to," Jack said, making sure there was emphasis on the all.  
  
Sam just smiled, as though showing she didn't mind. "Listen, Carter," Jack's voice petered out. He didn't know what he wanted to say. Not the words. "I just, I wanted to thank you.for what, well for.you said a lot to me. You might not have thought so, but what you said helped. Helped a lot. I just wanted you to know I'm grateful. Even for sitting in the rain with me. You didn't have to do that, but.well it helped anyway. Thank you."  
  
Sam knew it was hard for him to find the words he wanted to say to her, but she was glad he said them. It made her feel amazingly special to know he appreciated what she'd done for him - even though it might not have been much and he might have hated it at the time. To know he was thankful for her help, for her trying to do anything to be there for him, made it that much more worth while her doing it all. "I'm glad I helped at all, Colonel," Sam said simply.  
  
"You did, Sam," Jack said honestly, sincerity shining in his eyes. "Believe me, you did."  
  
Sam smiled. It was all she could do, for fear she would just start crying. She didn't know why the urge to burst into tears was so strong inside her, but she knew they were joyful, happy tears. She wasn't upset. She had nothing to be sad or upset about. She was genuinely happy, and she just couldn't help the urge to cry. Suddenly the urge overcame her, and happy tears were tumbling down her face. "Oh, I'm sorry, Colonel," she said, laughing at herself and wiping the tears away. "I'm just so happy you're back, and healthy and.I'm sorry. This is so silly."  
  
Jack stopped Sam's hands from moving to wipe her face again with his. She looked up and saw her CO's intense eyes looking at her. Something about his gaze - she knew she didn't have to say anything else. His face was showing his gratitude in his soft smile and profound eyes. He didn't have to speak. Sam smiled back and so badly wanted to just fall into his arms, but knew she couldn't. Especially not here. Their friends were here, in the very place that told them they couldn't feel anything for each other like they did. After a moment, the others seem to realise they were missing the man this party was for. Daniel looked around and saw him sitting with Sam toward the back wall and immediately commenced shouting out to him again.  
  
"Jack! Sam! Get over here and stop being unsociable!" The archaeologist called, waving them over wildly.  
  
Jack and Sam smiled at each other, Sam wiping her tears away, and went back to their friends. So much between them still remained unsaid, but somehow they both knew that was ok. They knew what they needed to say, but it was still ok that they hadn't yet. Their silent understanding allowed them to accept that fact.  
  
@  
  
After three weeks, Jack was nearly going insane from being at home. SG-1 was going on very few missions until he was healthy enough to join them, and General Hammond insisted he stay at home and not come anywhere near the base until he was better. Jack, naturally, insisted that he felt fine and didn't need to stay home anymore, but Hammond wouldn't hear of it. Janet had explained to him all the after-effects of pneumonia and that Jack was not likely to be back to his complete strength again for a few months, so Hammond refused to allow him back on the base. He knew the further away from the place Jack was, the better. Sam, Daniel and Teal'c went to visit him at home regularly, when they weren't away on simple recon missions. They told him all about their little missions and what dramas they encountered, even when he wasn't there. Colonel Blanch was their CO while Jack was out of commission, and Daniel did nothing but complain about him, which Jack liked although he didn't show it.  
  
Jack and Sam hadn't talked anymore about what they still wanted to, but Jack had been thinking about it a lot. He really wanted to talk to Sam more about it, but was unsure if it was the right thing to do. Then, one day, Sam called him. It was late afternoon, and Jack was changing the stations on the TV so fast that he could barely see what was on each one. He'd been through them all that many times, he was hoping a good channel would suddenly appear and not let him change it. Unfortunately, the phone rang instead.  
  
"Hello?" Jack said as he picked it up and stopped the ringing, continuing to change the TV stations.  
  
"Colonel, hi," Sam's voice came from the other end. "It's Sam."  
  
"Hey Carter," Jack said, pleased to hear a familiar voice, particularly hers. He'd been without a visit from his friends for a few days now, and he couldn't deny he missed their company. "What's up?"  
  
"Nothing, really," Sam replied, almost disappointedly. "I just thought I'd call and see how you were doing."  
  
Jack sighed. They all wanted to know how he was doing. "I'm ok. Bored outta my skull, but ok."  
  
"That's good. What are you doing tonight?"  
  
"Nothing. You?"  
  
"Nothing. I'd go somewhere, but I don't feel up to it. I'd ask you to go somewhere with me, but I don't know where."  
  
This gave Jack an idea. It might be a bad one, but it sounded good to him. He'd been told by doc Fraiser that he could lightly use his ankle now, but he'd been doing that for days. "So you're staying home then?" he asked, putting down the remote control, a new edge to his tone.  
  
"Looks like it," Sam said lowly. She did want to go out somewhere, with someone, but she didn't feel like it, really. Well, she did feel like it, but she had nowhere to go.  
  
Jack talked a little longer with Sam and then they said goodbye. She sounded more than a little disappointed that she had nowhere to go, but that would all change, Jack thought with a mischievous grin.  
  
Nearly two hours later, a beautiful sunset behind him, Jack walked to Sam's door and rang the bell. After waiting a few moments, she opened the door. She was wearing some simple house clothes - a blue denim jacket with a white shirt under it and some old looking jeans, bare feet. She was more than a little surprised to see her CO standing at her door, especially looking the way he did. "Colonel," she said, shocked. "What.I mean, well." she was speechless at the gorgeous appearance of her CO. The tuxedo she never knew he had looked fantastic, and she couldn't help smiling.  
  
"C'mon," Jack smiled. "Let's go."  
  
"Where?" Sam asked, confused but with a smile on her face.  
  
"I'm taking you out to dinner," Jack said matter-of-factly, as though it was blatantly obvious that was the reason he was there.  
  
"But, I can't go like this," Sam said, gesturing at her rather ordinary ensemble. Jack smiled. "You look fine, but go get changed if you want. There's time." Sam smiled, still slightly confused, and opened her screen door for Jack to come inside. He went in with her and sat in her lounge room, waiting for her to return. Jack didn't know how long he'd been waiting, but couldn't hide the fact that he was surprised when Sam returned.  
  
She was wearing a long red chiffon evening gown with thin straps, a red flower in her hair and red stilettos. A silver chain around her neck and deep red lips. Jack couldn't find words, but stood up.  
  
Sam seemed unsure. "Is this ok?" she asked worriedly, hoping it wasn't too much. Jack nodded, smiling and looking to her face.  
  
"Perfect," he said admiringly.  
  
Sam smiled, clearly pleased. "I haven't worn this is ages," she laughed, brushing herself, feeling self conscious in the dress she couldn't remember wearing in years.  
  
"Come on, then," Jack said, unable to wipe the smile off his face. "Let's go."  
  
"Where are we going?" Sam asked.  
  
"You'll find out, c'mon."  
  
Without worrying about what was acceptable for them, as a CO and 2IC, Sam smiled and linked her arm under Jack's as they walked to his car. She was so surprised by this spontaneous act, and yet so pleased with it at the same time. She hadn't been out anywhere and got dressed up in forever! It felt good to be dressed formally, going somewhere with someone she enjoyed spending time with. Besides that fact, Jack looked amazing! Very handsome indeed. She hadn't seen him in a tux before, but he certainly fit the part perfectly. He looked positively dashing and she was definitely impressed.  
  
It felt excellent being on his arm as they walked into a very prestigious looking restaurant that Sam had never seen or heard of before that moment. A waiter took them to their table, which Jack had clearly pre-booked, near a window, with a lovely view.  
  
"Colonel, how long have you been planning this?" Sam asked incredulously as food was brought to them without them ordering it.  
  
"I didn't plan it," Jack replied honestly. "I decided this afternoon on the phone."  
  
"But how did you get this table? Surely they were booked out by the time you phoned?"  
  
"I know some people. And lose the Colonel, Sam. We're out having dinner for cryin' out loud."  
  
Sam smiled and chuckled. He was right, of course. It was just a habit. She was so accustomed to him being her CO and nothing else, she hardly remembered that they were actually allowed to be friends as well as that outside the base she could actually use his name. Sam laughed to herself again and took a sip of the chilled champagne that had been waiting for them.  
  
"This is amazing, Co.Jack," she stopped herself saying Colonel just in time, and they smiled at each other.  
  
Jack shrugged, as though it was nothing to book a popular, expensive restaurant at the last minute and take his second in command out to dinner, just because he thought of it on the phone.  
  
Sam couldn't help laughing again. It was all so unbelievable! She could hardly believe that here she was, sitting at a table in an expensive restaurant wearing a dress she hadn't even seen in years, let alone worn, with her CO who was wearing a tuxedo and looked positively gorgeous. It was completely unthinkable that they be doing this now, after everything that happened to them both in the past few months, especially everything Jack went through. But now here he was. Exactly the person he was before P4C 237, if not a better one for everything that happened. Something about what happened changed him, but not for the worse like everyone would have assumed. He had a better concept of life, now that he'd had almost every breath of life tortured out of him on a regular basis. It all seemed so much more, now. Life. It all seemed so much more important. When it feels like the last day of your life has arrived, but you live through the ordeal, it makes everyday after that seem like the most important thing.  
  
Jack looked up from his meal and smiled at his second in command, but for the first time, he saw her as his friend and as a woman. She looked beautiful, and when she looked up to see him looking at her, she smiled. A beautiful smile. "What?" she asked, the smile never leaving her face.  
  
Jack smiled at her and didn't say anything. He knew he'd found something in himself that he didn't know was there. The day he realised everything around him was going to make it all ok; he found something inside himself. He'd discovered not only the truth, but the reasons.  
  
"Nothing," he murmured. Everything he'd been through had made a difference and made the reasons so much more important. Some of those reasons were at home, some at work, and one was, and always had been, right in front of him.  
  
//'And as time grows older  
Another day arrives  
With the same people who care  
Still remaining in your life  
So when you look back  
To forever, or years gone by  
Remember that they loved you  
But don't ask for a reason why'//  
  
"To Discover The Truth" - By Spyro  
  
Featured poem: 'Not Lost' by Spyro  
  
+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+ _*+_*+_* "Lose it.it means, go crazy, nuts, insane, bonzo, no longer in possession of one's faculties, three fries short of a Happy Meal, WACKO!" ~ Jack (Window of Opportunity) +_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+_*+ _*+_*+_* 


End file.
